Insuring the Future
by xAndarielx
Summary: Urged by the Buckets to insure his factory, Willy takes a delectable insurance agent on a very interesting tour. Amidst intrigue and adventure, is it possible for these two very different people to truly open their hearts to one another?
1. Introductions

**AN: ****Welcome one and all to my first CatCF fanfic. This story is mostly based on the 2005 movie, although the delicious Mr. Wonka is in some ways a combination of both Depp's and Wilder's Wonkas. I hope you enjoy! Reviews are greatly, GREATLY appreciated! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to anything in this story other than my own original characters. I'm just a fan.**

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"So you want to insure the _entire_ factory, Mr. Wonka?"

"That's right."

"I see. And may I ask why you've never insured your factory before?"

For one brief moment, the insurance agent thought she saw a strange look come over Mr. Willy Wonka's eyes. In that small instance, the woman had been almost positive that he'd regarded her with a deeply calculating and analytical look, one that even the most cunning businessman could never dream of emulating.

If it had been there, which she even now greatly doubted, it had disappeared with incredible speed. The strange man, though clearly an adult, was looking at her with childish simplicity now.

"Well, Miss…"

"Chantilly, Rowena Chantilly."

"Huh. Well that's a funny name."

Raising a tawny eyebrow, Rowena fought the urge to rebuke his comment. But, then again, it was true; she did have an unfortunately strange name. But when your father was an Ivanhoe enthusiast, you really had no choice but to live with the name you were given. Such was Rowena's case, and even though she had been subjected to ruthless teasing her entire life, she'd never once been tempted to change her name. She _was_ Rowena Chantilly, and there was nothing to be done for it.

"Well, Miss Rowena Chantilly," Mr. Wonka continued, his purple-gloved hands placed atop his cane, "the thought never crossed my mind. I've been far too busy to think of silly things like insurance."

"Silly things…" Rowena muttered in disbelief, half certain that this striking fellow was mad. If his childlike behavior wasn't enough, his appearance certainly supported the notion. Beneath a long crimson velvet jacket he was dressed head to toe in crisp black. Atop his chocolate colored hair sat a dark top hat, shadowing his distinctly pale face. She'd never seen anyone like him anywhere at all.

"Besides, my Oompa-Loompas are so terribly efficient, I've never once worried about things growing out of control around here."

"Oompa-Loompas?" the confused woman mumbled, her rosy lips struggling to form the strange words.

"You really shouldn't mumble, Miss Rowena Chantilly. It's most unbecoming of a young lady."

Quirking her head to the side, she could only stare, mouth slightly agape. Just how was it that she'd been assigned to this case? Only hours before, she'd been in her comfortable office in London, sifting through files and typing up reports as per usual. When Geoffrey Milton had called her, the last thing she'd expected was that she'd been singled out to journey to the famed Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory to determine if it would be a wise decision for her agency to insure the monolithic factory.

It was going to be a very, very long day.

"But Mr. Bucket, you see, has convinced me that it would be in everyone's best interest to have the whole place insured." Mr. Wonka continued without pausing, a strange grin glued on his face. If he noticed Rowena's discomfort or confusion, he didn't show.

"I'm sorry," she interrupted swiftly. "Who is Mr. Bucket?"

"Oh, yes, how silly of me! Mr. Bucket is Charlie's father."

_Charlie's father, of course. How silly of me,_ Rowena thought dryly. "I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate a bit more, Mr. Wonka."

Wonka's bright blue eyes regarded her curiously. It was clear that he thought Rowena was the strange one, as though it was impossible for her _not_ to understand his disjointed explanations.

"Charlie's father, Mr. Bucket is Charlie's father." Seeing that the woman's dark eyes held no hint of recognition, he spoke slowly, exaggerating each of his words as though English was a second language to her. "Charlie is my protégé and friend. He is my partner here in the factory. Paaar-teh-ner."

"Really, Mr. Wonka!" Rowena burst out, exasperated. "I understand what a partner is, thank you very kindly." Smoothing her hands over her flared black business skirt, she sought for some control. It wasn't like her to lose patience with a person her company would potentially insure. But this man…he was unlike anyone she'd ever known.

"So a Mr. Bucket is your partner?"

"No, not Mr. Bucket. Charlie's my partner. Mr. Bucket is his father."

"But isn't Charlie's last name Bucket as well, then?"

"Of course, silly."

Taking a deep calming breath, Rowena paused to toss her silken blonde waves over her shoulder. "Then it would be safe to call Charlie Mr. Bucket, would it not?"

"No. He's Charlie."

"All right then, _Charlie_ is your partner?"

The man had the audacity to clap, his face glowing with excitement. "That's right, Miss Rowena Chantilly! Now you've got it! Very good, very good indeed!"

"Right then," Rowena said as calmly as she could. "Then you've decided to insure your factory on the behest of your partner's father?"

"Right you are."

Nodding succinctly, she paused to jot a few notes on the steno pad she clasped in her hands:

_Mr. Wonka seeks insurance on the behalf of partner's father. Behavior is extremely odd. More research of Mr. Wonka is advised._

"What are you writing?" Willy's smooth tones interrupted the silence.

"Just some notes, Mr. Wonka."

"Ah, I see. What do they say?"

Flipping the cover so that it obscured her written notes, she tucked the pad into the leather briefcase that lay beside her high heeled feet. "Just some simple notes to help me when I return to the office. They'll help us when we make our decision on whether or not we can insure your factory."

The heat was stifling, Rowena suddenly noticed. She was dressed in light business clothes, professional and feminine looking. Her silk pink cardigan was light enough, yet it was beginning to feel very much like a parka. In the massive entry hall that they stood in, she would have thought it more likely that a chill would have descended upon them and not oppressive heat.

"Is it always this warm?" she asked politely, glancing around.

"Oh, yes," Mr. Wonka assured her pleasantly, still eyeing the suitcase she'd slipped her steno pad into. "The Oompa-Loompas are much more comfortable this way. But if you'd follow me, I'm sure you'll be more comfortable in the next phase of my factory."

As he gestured with an oddly graceful arm, Rowena paused to grasp the handles of her briefcase before stepping in the direction he indicated. Mr. Wonka easily fell into step beside her, his strides much quicker than her own. She was naturally petite, easily a head or two shorter than the strange man even without his hat. Quickening her pace, she rushed along to keep up with him.

It took several long moments to reach the end of the vast corridor, and to her great astonishment, the doors that awaited them was no larger than that of a doll's house.

"Mr. Wonka…?" she asked unsteadily, glancing in his direction to find his eyes trained steadily upon her face. He was leaning over her slightly, his gaze strangely piercing.

"Very few people ever get the pleasure of seeing my factory," he told her solemnly, his suddenly sane and serious tone of voice shocking to the woman. "I hope you understand what a treat you're in for."

Swallowing, she could only not shakily, unable to tear her eyes free from his gaze. He held her paralyzed a moment more with his hypnotizing blue eyes, and then he looked away and she was free. Producing a large set of keys, Willy stooped over the little doors and placed a tiny key smoothly into the lock. With a loud _click_, the ground seemed to shift beneath them.

Bracing a hand on the wall, he slowly pushed the revealed doors open.

"Well then, my dear Miss Rowena Chantilly. Here we go.


	2. Meeting Charlie

As the doors swung open, Rowena Chantilly saw before her a real life Candy Land. No, it was far better than any land of candy she'd ever dreamed of. The astounding colors were dazzling, the scintillating scents sweet and powerful, and the amazing size of the world before her was enough to send her head spinning.

And oh, did it ever.

"I can't believe it," she whispered, dark eyes wide with wonder. "I'd heard rumors, but I never…"

Her initial shock was wearing off as Mr. Wonka moved to stand beside her. "What to you think?" he asked excitedly, anticipation filling his voice.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, dazzled by the stunning colors and strange shapes of the delicious meadow which lay before her.

"I'm glad you think so. This way." He led her silently through the vibrantly green grass, guiding across a bridge that arched above a dark, creamy river. Even before he explained, she had some idea of what the liquid was.

"Every drop of the river is hot, melted chocolate of the finest quality," he told her with great pride, pausing at the edge of the bridge where they had a spectacular view of a great frothing waterfall.

"The waterfall is most important," he continued, pointing straight at it with his cane. "It mixes the chocolate, churns it up. Makes it light and frothy." He paused to let her absorb the fact, pleased by her look of genuine interest.

"No other factory in the world mixes its chocolate by waterfall, my dear Miss Rowena Chantilly. And you can take that to the bank."

The blonde nodded slowly, observing the chocolate river for a moment with unveiled delight. To Willy's dismay, however, her delight soon disappeared, replaced with a look that clearly meant she was determined to get to business. Setting her briefcase on the soft and crunchy grass, she pulled out her stenopad.

"Excuse me," he interjected before her pen met with the paper. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"I told you that I need to keep notes on you and your factory. It's standard procedure."

"Standard procedure doesn't always apply in my factory."

Rowena's hand froze, her eyes rising to meet Mr. Wonka's. Was she hearing things, or had his voice changed when he'd said that? He'd sounded so serious, even vaguely prophetic. Determined not to be distracted, she bowed her head once more and began to write.

_River and waterfall of chocolate possible liability. Mr. Wonka suggests they are necessary in the production of chocolate. Only factory in the world that employs such means.  
_

"I'm afraid I have no choice but to follow my standards of procedure, Mr. Wonka," Rowena told him flippantly as she shut the notepad, sliding it back into her briefcase.

"Well, whatever you say." He turned away with a scowl on his face, and Rowena couldn't help but roll her eyes. They were only notes.

He sauntered along through the meadow, glancing over his shoulder as she hurried to catch up with him. He was back to his old self it seemed, or at least acting the way she assumed was his usual behavior. With a wide grin, he gestured with both arms. "Why don't you try something?"

She whirled to face him, tilting her head quizzically. "Try something?" she repeated dumbly.

"Of course, try something! Everything in here is so delicious, so delightful, you won't believe it!"

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"Oh, no, thank you. I couldn't."

Mimicking her stance, he leaned forward so their eyes were level. "Yes, you could," he told her sternly.

"No, I couldn't," she returned, panic tracing her voice.

"You can't or you won't?" he pressed on, watching her carefully as her eyes darted across the tempting objects of his meadow.

"Both. I haven't eaten sweets in a very long time."

"No time like the present!"

"No, thank you."

Annoyance written clearly on his face, Mr. Wonka raised a finger, ready to make a point, when the voice of a boy sounded from across the river.

"Willy!"

The pair turned in the direction of the voice. Standing on the opposite bank, a boy that appeared to be no more than ten or eleven was waving wildly, a happy smile on his face. He ran along the bank and over the bridge, bounding up beside them. "Willy, there you are!"

"Well hello, Charlie!" Mr. Wonka smiled, planting his cane in the grass and settling his hands on top of it. "Miss Rowena Chantilly, I'd like you to meet my partner, Charlie."

"_You're_ Charlie?" She asked in utter disbelief, glancing several times from the boy to Mr. Wonka.

"It's nice to meet you," he said sincerely, reaching out to take her hand and shaking it vigorously.

"Likewise," she muttered, unable for the moment to say anything else.

"I didn't know she was here already!" Charlie said to Willy.

"Yep, she came right on time. Where have you been?"

"Mum made me clean my room."

Mr. Wonka nodded sympathetically, patting the boy's back.

In unison, Mr. Wonka and Charlie returned their attention back to the woman. "You should come and meet my family, Miss Chantilly!" Charlie suggested excitedly.

"Do they live here?" Rowena asked, avoiding Mr. Wonka's penetrating gaze.

"Just on the other side of the river, around the corner!" Taking her by the hand, Charlie began to drag her along, leading her back over the bridge and through the other side of the meadow. Helpless to do anything but follow along, Rowena stumbled behind him, wishing she'd thought to have exchanged her black pumps for something more comfortable before leaving for the factory.

Mr. Wonka must have been right behind them, for when Charlie and Rowena halted before a brown, crooked cottage, he was suddenly at her side again.

"You live in the meadow. That must be utterly delightful." Her words surprised the other two, for she'd had little to say since Charlie's introduction.

"Yeah, it's great!" Charlie whole-heartedly agreed, leading them along the jagged path to the front door. "Our house used to be outside of the factory, but Willy thought it would be a good idea for my family and me to move into the factory. Mum and dad were attached to the place, though, so the Oompa-Loompas brought the whole house here."

Before she could ask questions, Rowena was ushered through the door by Charlie, Mr. Wonka bringing up the rear.


	3. At Home with the Buckets

**AN:**

**Well, I was planning on holding off before posting this next chapter, but I just can't help myself. I know the last two chapters have been a bit on the short side, but from now on chapters will be a bit lengthier. Thanks to Yva J. and LA Suka for your reviews! They are GREATLY appreciated! **

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"Mum? Dad? I'm back!" Charlie called into the large room of the house.

"And we brought a guest!" Willy added cheerily.

The room they had entered into was small and crowded, but there was a tangible feeling of contentment hanging in the air. The robust smells of a warm stew wafted towards her, and Rowena nearly sighed aloud at the delicious scent. From an adjoining kitchen, a pleasant-looking brunette woman rushed to greet them with a smile. Her short curls were tied with a ribbon, her neatly pressed housedress covered with an apron that showed some signs of a fierce battle in the kitchen.

"Come in, come in!" the woman bade Rowena, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and drawing her towards a great table that rested in the middle of the room. Rowena was seated comfortably, finding that she was not the only occupant at the table. No less than four elderly persons sat there as well, three of them smiling warmly at her while the fourth scowled suspiciously.

Charlie and Willy both joined her at the table, sitting on either side of her. "Miss Chantilly," Charlie began by way of introduction, "this is my mum, Mrs. Bucket." The curly-haired woman smiled, waving briefly with one hand before turning back into the kitchen. "And these are my grandparents, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine." The pleasant-looking couple was settled at the head of the table nearest the kitchen, happily piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. They smiled broadly at her, Grandpa Joe actually rising and extending his hand to her. Rowena took it politely, giving it a firm shake.

"And this is Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina," Charlie finished, nodding at the remaining couple. Grandma Georgina grinned toothlessly, her hands folded in her lap. The scowling man, Grandpa George, merely harrumphed, returning his hawk eyed gaze to the novel he appeared to be reading.

The rest of them were clearly waiting for her own introduction, and she hastily supplied one. "I'm Rowena Chantilly. It's a pleasure to meet all of you."

"She's my insurance agent," Mr. Wonka added to her dismay.

"Well, that's yet to be seen," she amended, avoiding his gaze.

Mrs. Bucket had returned from the kitchen, rubbing her hands on the smudged apron. "Charlie told us the factory would be having a guest today. I do hope you're enjoying yourself so far."

"Oh, yes," Rowena tried to assure her, all the while wondering if it was possible to enjoy one's self when they were hopelessly confused. It wasn't everyday that a person stumbled upon a meadow made of candy and the family living within it.

Mrs. Bucket took the remaining chair, sitting directly across from Rowena. "It must seem a bit strange to you now," she added, exuding refreshing wisdom. "Mr. Wonka's certainly created a wonderland here. It was hard for me to believe at first, but now I feel perfectly at home."

The front door flew open, sufficiently distracting the group. "Dad!" Charlie exclaimed, waving at the man Rowena presumed to be Mr. Bucket. Charlie introduced the two to each other, and they briefly shook hands.

"Would you like a seat?" Rowena asked him, noticing that she was taking up an extra place that must have belonged to him.

"Of course not!"

"You're our guest!"

"You just stay where you are, dear."

"Don't be silly!"

These phrases were all exclaimed at once by Charlie, Mr. and Mrs. Bucket and even Mr. Wonka. Rowena smiled sheepishly, interlacing her fingers over the briefcase that sat in her lap.

"Lunch won't be ready for a little while," Mrs. Bucket said, interrupting the brief silence. "But I do hope you'll join us, Rowena. You don't mind if I call you Rowena, do you?"

"Oh…no, of course not!"

Her hesitant answer made Mrs. Bucket frown guiltily and Rowena could feel Mr. Wonka stiffen in his chair beside her.

"I can call you Miss Chantilly, if you prefer," the brunette said with a gentle smile.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Rowena is fine, really. I'm just not used to people wanting to address me by my first name. I'm not even sure the people I work for know I _have_ a first name," she finished with a warm laugh. The effect was mesmerizing on the group, for she had a truly melodious laugh. Everyone at ease again, Mrs. Bucket nodded before rising from the table and going to check on things in the kitchen.

"Darling, would you find another chair, please?" she called to her husband on her way there, and Mr. Bucket, who had been standing next to Grandpa Joe, happily acquiesced.

Aware of Mr. Wonka's gaze on her again, Rowena fidgeted with her hands. She couldn't begin to imagine what he was looking for. If he had a question for her, he could always ask, couldn't he?

"Rowena is a lovely name," Grandma Josephine commented as she placed a piece down on their puzzle.

Surprised, Rowena's dark eyes filled with sincere gratitude. "Thank you," she replied sweetly, strangely touched by the old woman's offhanded compliment.

"However did you come by it?" Grandma Josephine continued, ignoring the puzzle for a moment.

"Well, my father loved Ivanhoe. Since my mother decided on my elder brother's name, it was his turn to decide on one for me. It's a good thing I wasn't born a boy, or I'm sure he would have named me Ivanhoe." She laughed again, the delightful sound bringing added warmth to the room. Several of the others joined her, Charlie especially amused by her story.

"And what did your mother name your brother?" he asked, provoking even more laughter from Rowena before she could answer. "Fitzwilliam!" she finally burst out and the entire table joined in the laughter. Even Grandpa George cracked a grin, though he quickly hid it behind his book.

"My mother loved Jane Austen's works. My parents were both scholars, you see."

"Does your brother like his name? Or do you tease him all the time?"

Rowena's face fell briefly, unnoticed by all except for the astute Mr. Wonka. Her smile remained, decidedly more forced than before. "My brother passed away a few years ago. But we did tease each other, all of the time. Our names were a sort of inside joke."

Looks of sympathy were shared all around, but none as extreme as Charlie's. "I'm sorry," he told her sincerely, placing his small hand on her shoulder comfortingly. She could see in this boy wisdom beyond his years, a kind of perfect innocence that would never fade. How strange it was to find comfort from the gesture of a child.

"You needn't be sorry, Charlie. Fitz lived a brilliant life. And since he always refused to live with any regrets, I know for a fact that he died without any."

Why did she feel the desire to confide such personal feelings to this group of strangers? For years, Rowena had been determined to keep her personal life to herself, never revealing any details beyond that which was absolutely necessary. Why, then, did she feel she could tell this young boy anything at all, and never fear his reaction?

"You must miss him," Charlie continued, just as Mr. and Mrs. Bucket returned.

"I do," Rowena agreed solemnly, unshed tears shining in her brown eyes. Only Charlie and Willy could see them, and she turned her attention to her hands quickly to avoid their scrutiny. Tears were silly things never shed by Miss Rowena Chantilly. She would hardly cry now, of that she was determined.

Fortunately, Mrs. Bucket presented the perfect distraction, having brought an armful of bowls and silverware to set the table. "Here, let me help you with that," their guest insisted, rising from her chair before anyone could refuse her.

"That would be wonderful, dear," Mrs. Bucket agreed, handing the bowls into Rowena's gentle hands. As she moved around the table, carefully placing a bowl before each person, she could feel Mr. Wonka's eyes following her. He'd said so little since they'd arrived, she couldn't begin to imagine what he was thinking. Had she said too much about her personal life? Was this strange, childish man unmoved by her behavior, perhaps thinking of replacing her?

She shouldn't have cared, but she sincerely hoped she had not upset him. The simple fact for this reaction, she assured herself, was that she wanted to finish her job satisfactorily for all parties involved. That was that.

Just when she was sure she couldn't bear his powerful gaze any longer, the blaring of a siren sounded from outside the house. Everyone started, exchanging curious glances. A few seconds more and the siren was accompanied by a projected voice—Mr. Wonka's voice.

"_Intruder alert_," the voice called in its strange tones. "_Intruder alert, intruder alert_," it continued evenly.

By now Willy had risen from the table, pausing for a moment to listen to the alarm. "Come along, Charlie," he called, turning for the door. "We'd better check this out. Miss Rowena Chantilly, you'd best stay here with Mrs. Bucket."

Rowena nodded, alarmed at the turn of events. Apparently sensing her tension, Mrs. Bucket came up behind her, placing her hands on the woman's shoulders in a comforting gesture similar to the one Charlie had manifested before.

"I'm coming, too!" Mr. Bucket declared, leaving the spare chair he'd retrieved stranded in the middle of the room.

Willy held the door open while Charlie and his father rushed outside. His gaze fell for one final moment on Rowena. "I'll be back for you," he promised, and then he was gone.

His words sent a chill down her spine. They had been spoken so solemnly, so nobly, the woman was left reeling, trying to decipher their meaning. Of course they had been meant literally—he was going to investigate a situation in his factory, and then he'd return to continue their tour. Then why did it seem that his words had held some other wordless, powerful meaning?

She was losing her mind. One hour in the factory, and already she was becoming a mad woman. Mrs. Bucket ushered the woman back into her chair, sitting beside her in the chair Charlie had abandoned.

"Interesting character, our Willy," she said with a soft smile, propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

Should she share her thoughts with Mrs. Bucket? Rowena wondered, sure that the friendship shining in the woman's eyes was genuine. The situation she found herself in was anything but ordinary, and perhaps under the circumstances it would be acceptable to speak candidly.

Her decision made, Rowena turned in her seat so that she faced Mrs. Bucket. "I've never met anyone like him!" she confided, relief instantly filling her.

"I'm sure you haven't," Mrs. Bucket laughed, glancing at the two elderly couples. They appeared to be serenely unaware of the conversation, each devoting their attention to anything other than the two young women. Mrs. Bucket knew better, sure that they were hanging on every word being spoken, but at least their guest would be at ease.

"Don't you let your first impressions fool you. There's much, much more to William Wonka than you may think."

"That, I think, is what unnerves me the most," Rowena said nervously. "He acts so strangely, but his eyes…they're anything but childish."

Taking one of Rowena's hands, Mrs. Bucket patted it gently. "Willy is a wonderful man. Just look at what he's done for my family. Before Charlie found that golden ticket, we were facing ruin. Imagine eating watered down cabbage soup every night in a cottage that invited the cold in more than it kept it out."

"How terrible!"

"Yes, well, we did the best we could. Of course, my husband had his job back soon, but it was still difficult to make ends meet. When Willy had us all moved into the factory, that's when our luck _really_ changed. Everyone was rejuvenated, everyone! Charlie found in Willy a true friend, and I'm sure that Charlie brought some humanity back into Willy's world. And for a family that loves chocolate, we couldn't ask for a better neighborhood!"

The two women, bonding in a way Rowena never thought possible, laughed together. "I heard so many strange things before I came," Rowena admitted, shaking her head at the silly rumors. "It seemed that everyone at my office had something to share. Some said he was mad, another said he was some sort of an evil genius with a factory. There was even a rumor or two that he was deformed, or some silliness like that. Clearly, none of them are true."

Mrs. Bucket shook her head. "What people don't understand, they fear. Willy's not one to welcome the world into his factory. It's not that he's truly unfriendly, but he's certainly not used to large crowds. I'm surprised he's welcomed you the way he has."

"Why's that?"

"Well, the way I understood it, he was planning on showing the insurance agent plans and schematics for the factory rather than giving them an actual tour. There are many secret recipes and new ideas within these walls, secrets that, if his competitor's discovered them, could take away his edge on the competition."

"I'm…flattered," Rowena said slowly, sincerely. "I wonder what made him change his mind."

"Well, it may not seem like it, but Willy's a master of human character. He must have seen right away that you were a woman he could trust, someone who would truly appreciate the wonders of his factory."

Rowena didn't truly believe that, but she said nothing. From the beginning of their awkward introduction in the factory's entry, she'd been all business. She couldn't recall any way she'd acted that even hinted at warmth or understanding. Surely he must have changed his mind about the tour _before_ she'd arrived. She just couldn't believe that she appeared to be anything special at all to the man.

"I've got to check on the stew," Mrs. Bucket said apologetically as she rose from the table.

"Can I…can I help you?" Rowena asked cautiously, hopefully.

"Of course, I'd love it if you would!" Mrs. Bucket said happily, guiding the blonde into the kitchen. "We'll just find you an apron…ah, here we are." She handed a soft and frilly floral creation to Rowena, nodding approvingly at the way it complimented the woman's fair skin tone.

"Can you chop vegetables?"

"Yes, I can!" Rowena couldn't hide the tone of excitement in her voice. For a moment, she'd wondered if she'd actually be able to help Mrs. Bucket at all, but now she was unaccountably pleased that she could. Taking position beside her, Rowena began to expertly slice several crisp carrots. The two women laughed and chatted, content in their work.

And Rowena felt _happy._ Happier than she had felt in a very, very long time.


	4. Change of Plans

**AN:**

**Thanks again for your reviews. Reviews keep me motivated, and with finals coming up, I'm going to need all the motivation I can get to stay on top of things. But never fear: The plot outline for this story is complete, so now I only have to put my ideas into words. Let's hope my muse doesn't abandon me now!**

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"Mum, we're back!" Charlie's voice sounded from the front door, alerting the two busy women that the trio had returned. Wiping her hands clean on a ratty dish towel, Mrs. Bucket handed it to Rowena so she could do the same.

"Well, let's see what sort of trouble they found, shall we?" Winking to her, Mrs. Bucket linked her arm with Rowena's and led her back into the adjoining room. Charlie appeared wild with excitement, already seated beside Grandpa Joe and animatedly beginning to tell him of the last hour's events.

"Now, Charlie," Mrs. Bucket scolded lightly, gesturing to Rowena to take a chair. "Slow down, dear. We all want to hear what happened, but wait until everyone's here together."

"But I thought we weren't supposed to speak about business at the table," Charlie reminded her, smiling innocently.

Exchanging a glance with her husband, Mrs. Bucket shrugged helplessly as she pulled the spare chair to the table. "Well, you're already at the table, and I'd say that under the circumstances we can make an exception."

Following the conversation between Charlie and his mother, Rowena felt a jolt run through her when a hand settled on the back of her chair. Easing himself gracefully into the seat beside her, Mr. Wonka was all smiles. "I certainly hope you didn't miss me while I was gone," he said sweetly, a little too sweetly. Knowing the answer he wished for her to supply, Rowena was sure not to give it to him.

"Actually, Mrs. Bucket and I were having a lovely time. I quite honestly lost track of the time while you were away." Mr. Wonka's smile did not falter, though his eyes seemed to sparkle. "Don't tease me," she mumbled nervously, positive that that was exactly what he was doing. As to why he was doing so, she hadn't the faintest idea.

"Now, my dear Miss Rowena Chantilly, what did I tell you about mumbling?" he chided.

"I was not mumbling," she argued primly, gripping the table's edge.

"Whatever you say."

"I wasn't!"

"I wouldn't have said you were if you were, in fact, not."

"What is it with you and mumbling, anyway? It isn't as if a person does it on purpose."

"Well, it's simply the fact that I can't understand a word you're saying when you do it. And that, Miss Rowena Chantilly, is terribly annoying."

Eyes blazing, Rowena turned in her chair so she was facing him directly, and sure enough, Mr. Wonka followed suit. Their knees almost touching, their argument continued without another pause.

"It's not as if I _meant_ to, it just happened!"

"Ah-ha! So you admit it!" Willy was grinning in triumph, something that was quite aggravating to Rowena. Rather than accepting defeat, she quickly changed the subject, her voice soft yet sharp in its tone.

"Why do you insist on calling me by my full name, Mr. Wonka?"

"Well, it's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course it is. But you don't call Charlie there Mr. Charles Bucket, and no one calls you Mr. William Wonka."

"'Cause that sounds weird." Was there no end to this man's strangeness? Was he honestly and blatantly unaware of how invalid his argument was?

"Well, if you're going to insist on calling me by my full name, you might as well add Victoria, too."

"Why would I do that?"

Sighing aloud, Rowena ran a hand through her blonde waves in agitation. "Because my full name is Rowena _Victoria_ Chantilly. I'm trying to point out--"

"Then what would you like me to call you?" he interrupted abruptly, that strange serious tone of voice back again. That silenced her. Mouth agape in surprise, she suddenly and painfully realized that the room was still. Charlie and his family had witnessed their entire argument. Charlie was grinning, as were Grandpa Joe and Mr. Bucket. Mrs. Bucket seemed to emulate more sympathy than the rest, though she regarded the argumentative pair with a curious look in her eyes.

"Miss Chantilly or Rowena would be just fine," Rowena mumbled unintentionally, and was suddenly fearful that the argument would start up again. Hoping to keep such a thing from happening, she quickly spoke up, "Rowena! Call me Rowena!"

The silence was deafening as the whole room waited for Willy's reaction. Turning to face the table again, he adjusted his jacket before answering in his usual childish tone, "Well then. Rowena it is."

Clapping her hands together, Mrs. Bucket brought the attention back to her. "Stew's ready! I'll just go and get it."

The rest of the table's occupants politely averted their gazes, resuming some form of small talk.

"Victoria is a lovely middle name."

Those words had been uttered so softly from Mr. Wonka's lips, Rowena wondered for a moment if she was hearing things. He would not meet her eyes, choosing instead to serenely focus his attention on some vague painting hanging on the wall.

As surprised as she was, she couldn't help but respond with a teasing smile, "Who's mumbling now?"

Apparently, the others hadn't been as distracted as they'd appeared to be, for stifled chuckles were beginning to burst out. Another moment more and their chuckles turned into contagious laughter. Rowena was laughing as well, but that wasn't nearly as surprising as when Mr. Wonka burst into laughter along with the rest of them.

And so it was that a very pleased Mrs. Bucket returned to a cheerful, chuckling table, ladling stew into everyone's bowl with a grin. The delicious aroma of the stew worked as a calming effect on the group, and the laughter slowly dissipated while eating began.

"Well, Charlie, now you can tell us what happened," Mrs. Bucket invited, settling into her chair next to Mr. Bucket.

Charlie needed no further urging and began his narrative immediately. "It looks like someone tried to get into the factory through one of the docking bay doors, where the delivery trucks drive out of. They even pried it open a few inches."

Mr. Bucket nodded several times, pausing to swallow his stew before adding, "Looks like they used a crow bar. Can you imagine? Trying to break into a world famous factory in the middle of the day! It boggles the mind, it does."

"You should have seen the Oompa-Loompas, Grandpa Joe!" Charlie gushed, dropping his spoon in his excitement. "They were all over, looking for clues, taking pictures, examining footprints…"

"Yeah, my Oompa-Loompas certainly are thorough," Mr. Wonka spoke up. "Like little secret agents. They take these kinds of situations very seriously."

The subject of Oompa-Loompas was still a strange one for Rowena, seeing as she had no idea as to what they were exactly. She held her tongue, enjoying the warm stew that she had helped prepare.

"…so you'll have to stay here until they finish." She'd lost track of the conversation for a moment, but suddenly all eyes were on her.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What was that?"

"Well," Willy repeated, concentrating on his stew rather than looking her directly in the eye, "The Oompa-Loompas are conducting a full investigation and it is imperative that no one enters or leaves the factory for a little while. So you're going to have to stay here until they finish."

It was Rowena's turn to drop her spoon. Hastily grasping it back up, she let it sink into her stew before resting her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid that's not possible," she told Mr. Wonka carefully. "I have deadlines to make, and the office expects me back in town this evening."

"Well, you're just going to have to give 'em a ring and tell them the tour's lasting longer than you thought. 'Kay?"

"But that's not possible! Besides, it's highly unorthodox. I can't just--"

"Sure you can," Willy assured her, continuing to enjoy his stew as though there was no pressing issue at hand.

"You can stay with us if you like," Charlie piped up, ever the young gentleman. "We can make room."

"Oh, yes, of course!" Mrs. Bucket assured her, glancing around hastily. It was clear to Rowena that space was cramped, even though the pleasant family seemed perfectly happy in their tiny cottage. As much as she enjoyed their company, the last thing she wanted was to be a burden. They'd been so kind to her already.

"Nonsense," Mr. Wonka said serenely, finishing his stew and setting his spoon down with a clink. "I have guest rooms, you know. She can stay there."

This appeared to be news to everyone. Mrs. Bucket shared a concerned glance with her husband and Charlie appeared quite baffled. Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina seemed to be the only ones not privy to the conversation, each of them eating away noisily without a care in the world.

"I didn't know there were guest rooms," Charlie said honestly, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Sure I have guest rooms," Willy agreed nonchalantly. "I just never use them because I don't like guests."

A truly Wonka reply, Rowena mused. Well, at least that way she wouldn't be a burden to the Bucket family. Noticing that Mrs. Bucket was preparing to argue on her behalf, Rowena spoke up, "I'll just make a call to my office then, shall I?" This, in truth, was the last thing she wanted to do. The idea of staying _overnight_ in the factory was not exactly appealing. Especially when her host was the enigmatic Mr. Wonka, how would she ever be at ease alone and in the dark in this strange place?

But there was no choice. She'd known that, even before she'd begun her hopeless argument. Already reeling from so many new and strange events in so short a timeframe, continuing the tour now seemed utterly impossible. She'd never be able to keep her head on straight, to look at the factory and its owner with a business minded eye.

As she rose smoothly from the table with briefcase in hand, Rowena was caught off guard for a moment when Mr. Wonka rose alongside her. Tipping his hat to her, she realized with muted pleasure that he was acting as a gentleman should. There was no end to Mr. Wonka's contrasting behavior.

"Excuse me a moment, please," she politely asked the table, slipping away when Mr. and Mrs. Bucket nodded with easy smiles. Quitting the house entirely, Rowena ambled through the confectionary grass until she was a few feet away. Fishing her cellphone out of her briefcase, she flipped it open and dialed one of her boss's numbers from memory.

"Hello, Geoffrey?" she asked when a man's voice picked up.

"Miss Chantilly! Pleasure to hear from you," Geoffrey Milton boomed on the other end. "Tell me, how are things going with Mr. Wonka and his factory? I must say that I'm terribly curious to hear all about it."

"Actually, something's come up," she told him reluctantly, glad that he wasn't there to see how she rung her free hand in the folds of her skirt. "The factory is extremely large, and I'm going to have to stay an extra night in order to see all of it."

"An extra night?" Geoffrey questioned, clear disapproval in his voice. "I've never heard of such a thing. All you need to do is to meet the man, take a look at his factory, and bring back your findings to us. It's a simple, standard procedure, Miss Chantilly."

"Yes, I know," Rowena sighed, shifting her weight nervously. Geoffrey Milton couldn't have been ten years older than her, yet he'd treated her like a mindless doll ever since she'd been hired by the company five years before. Even though the rest of her superiors seemed to recognize her excellent skills as an agent, Geoffrey couldn't seem to wrap his balding head around the matter. Were it not for the excellent pay and the mind numbing work that she desired so desperately, Rowena would have never have stayed working for such a man.

"But Geoffrey, it's just not as simple as that." Recalling Mr. Wonka's words from earlier, she continued, "Standard procedure doesn't always apply, I'm afraid, and especially not here. He has a wonderful factory, from what I've seen so far, but it's certainly…different."

"Different? Whatever do you mean, different?"

"Just…Geoffrey, please, take my word for it. I need to stay another night, and I won't ask the company to cover for my expenses or anything. Listen, today's Thursday, so I'll be home by Friday night, which means I can prepare a detailed report of my findings over the weekend. It works to our advantage, you see."

"No, I don't," the brute drawled, belittling her even over the phone. "But since you're giving me no other alternative, I guess that's just the way it has to be. But know this, Miss Chantilly; your behavior is very disappointing, very disappointing indeed. Any other agent would have had the job done in a timely manner, but the board insisted on sending you. You'd better have a damned brilliant report for us when you come back."

"Yes, of course, Geoffrey," she assured him, longing to end the conversation. "I promise you, nothing like this will ever happen again."

"No, it won't!" he all but shouted, and the line went dead.

Slapping her phone shut, she threw it back into her briefcase with unnecessary violence. Fists clenched, she kicked at the ground, utterly mortified and slightly enraged at the way the phonecall had gone. There were too many Geoffrey Miltons in the world, she thought glumly. One Geoffrey Milton, in fact, was one too many.

Turning about to go back inside the house, she froze as she realized she was not alone. At some point during her conversation, Mr. Wonka had apparently left the house to join her, leaning on his cane some six feet away from her.

"How long have you been there?" she asked him, clearly startled and praying he hadn't heard very much of her conversation.

"Sounds to me like your boss isn't a very good nut." What was he going on about now? So he had been listening, then?

"My boss is…old fashioned, that's all. Protocol is very important to him. I knew he wouldn't like my staying overnight."

"Being old fashioned is no excuse for being rude."

"No, it isn't," she agreed, taking two cautious steps closer towards him. "But it's just the way he is, so it truly doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters." She wondered what he could possibly mean by that. He was only her boss. Bosses were supposed to be demanding and unsatisfied.

"Why are you here, Mr. Wonka? Won't the others miss you?"

"Ah, well, I thought it was time you and I moved along."

"But I thought we weren't continuing our tour today."

"We won't be touring the factory, Rowena, but I thought you'd like to see a tour of the guest bedrooms. They're just as magical, marvelous and darn delicious as the rest of the factory."

It was strange to hear him call her by her first name. Strange, but…nice. And she didn't like that, not one bit.

"If you'll come this way, please," Willy continued, pointing to the path that wound around the house and back near the river. Picking up her briefcase, Rowena joined him on the path. They walked in silence, their pace leisurely. After a few moments, she recognized that they were nearing the doors they had entered in. Certain that she hadn't seen any other doors in the entry, she was curious where exactly he was leading her to.

"Mr. Wonka, where precisely are the guest rooms?"

"They're in another wing of the factory." Another cryptic answer. Rolling her eyes, she was preparing to press him for more information when the heel of her right foot caught on something on the path. She tumbled forward violently, throwing her arms up to break her own fall, preparing to meet the ground soon.

And suddenly Mr. Wonka's arms wrapped around her, holding her aloft a mere foot from the ground. She was face to face with the path, her hair cast wildly over her head and streaking the ground. In one swift motion he pulled her to her feet, pulling his arms away so quickly that Rowena couldn't help but wonder if she was unpleasant to touch. Something about him had changed, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Something akin to shock and alarm filled his eyes, but he determinedly turned away from her. Scooping up his discarded cane, he used it to point at a shining candy apple, the culprit that had sent her flying.

"Must have fallen from the tree," he said stiffly, lining his cane up beside it like a golf club. With a powerful swing, the apple went sailing across the meadow, landing far on the other side of a rounded hill. "Now it won't ever bother us again," he said with satisfaction, nodding succinctly.

"Good shot," Rowena remarked, truly impressed. Turning to face her, Willy was caught off guard by her wry little grin. He returned it with one of his own, and for a moment the two simply smiled at one another.

"Thank you not letting me fall," she added, and his smile instantly fell. He said nothing in return, striding off on the path instead and leaving a bewildered Rowena behind. Shaking her head in confusion, she took a moment to remove her pumps, finding a way to fit them inside her already cramped briefcase. Jogging to catch up with him, she breathed a sigh of relief at the ease she now had in moving.

By now he had arrived at the doors they had entered in, which had somehow remained open since their entrance into the meadow. She followed him back into the entry, still struggling to keep up with his swift gait. He stopped abruptly, turning to face a part of the wall that seemed totally unremarkable to her eyes. One push from his gloved hand proved her wrong. The wall gave way instantly, swinging open to reveal a wide set of red carpeted steps.

Lips parted in amazement, she paused to examine the secret door, marveling at the craftsmanship that had hidden it so completely.

"Rowena, are you coming?" Mr. Wonka called, already several steps above her.

"Oh, yes, I'm coming!" she assured him, hastening to catch up with him.

If she thought the door alone was amazing, she was in for a very pleasant surprise.


	5. A Splash of Fruit

**AN: Not much of a note this time, but I thought I'd give another disclaimer just for good measure. Once again, I don't own the rights to these characters or the movie it was based off of. I'm just a fan who would like to see the story continued.**

**I did have a bit of a hard time on this chapter, since a couple of events within it are very important for the story ahead. I'd appreciate any and all feedback, since I fully intend to finish this story and your reviews give the encouragement that I need. Thank you!**

* * *

Mr. Wonka cleared his throat, waiting for Rowena to join him at the top of the stairs. The only light shone weakly from the door, leaving Willy and Rowena standing on the edge of a shadowy abyss.

"Now, where did I put that darn thing?" Willy pondered aloud, disappearing briefly into the darkness. From what she assumed was several feet away, she heard him exclaim, "Ah ha! There you are!" With a blinding flash, the scene before her was illuminated.

Rowena nearly fell over. In all of her wildest dreams, she'd never seen a hall so lavish or more majestic, stretching on as far as her astonished eyes could see. In width it mirrored that of the entry's corridor, though that other hall greatly paled in comparison. For one thing, the light that now shone upon them spilled forth from glittering chandeliers high above them.

With growing amazement, the astonished woman realized that each chandelier seemed to feature a different fruit. The first, which hung nearly directly over Mr. Wonka's head, had dozens of crystal pineapples dripping like diamonds. Some several feet beyond, Rowena could make out bunches of grapes and glimmering glass vines composing the next chandelier. There was nothing kitschy or silly about the designs; they were immaculate, clearly the creations of a true master.

But the beauty did not end with the chandeliers. For the entire length of the corridor, polished marble columns supported the high ceilings, and between each column hung carefully created tapestries and elaborately framed paintings. These too, she noticed, had one common element; fruit.

Going to a gold framed painting nearest her, Rowena studied it with shock. A simple girl sat beside an open window, her hand resting on a pear as though she were examining it. Something about the painting was familiar. The transparent colors, the calm expression on the girl's face…

"Mr. Wonka," Rowena breathed, her voice filled with wonder, "is this a _Vermeer?"_ Having given her adequate time to be amazed by his wonderful hall, he returned to her side, only glancing at the painting.

"Uh, yeah," he confirmed lightly, a strange look in his eyes.

"I've never seen this before. I mean, it certainly looks like a Vermeer, but--"

By now the strange look he affixed on her had drawn her attention. Her eyes flicking nervously to his, she fought the urge to take a step back. "Mr. Wonka, what is it?" she demanded softly, glancing down to make sure she didn't have some offending stain on her outfit or if anything else was visually amiss.

"Huh. I just didn't realize how short you were," he explained, examining her from head to foot.

Hands on hips, Rowena couldn't help but smile at this. There was a reason she often wore three inch pumps, after all. Barefoot beside Mr. Wonka, the top of her golden head barely reached his chest. "Try as I might, I just can't seem to grow an inch taller," she said with a short laugh, shaking her head ruefully.

"Wear a hat," was his immediate suggestion, and he gestured with his gloved hands to his own tall hat. "That's what I did."

"So I see," she agreed, still smiling. "I'm afraid top hats aren't the popular accessory for women my age. Otherwise, I'd be tempted to try it out."

"You're passing up a valuable opportunity to start a new fashion trend."

"Fashion never really was my forte." While her outfit was flattering and pleasing to the eye, there was nothing extraordinary about it. Its simplicity was the key element, one that Rowena had always admired. Simplicity was a rule to live your life by, as far as she was concerned.

"How old are you, anyway?" He asked the audacious question so innocently Rowena couldn't see any point in feeling offended over it. She could lie or skirt over the issue, but what was the point? Age had never been a sore subject for her. It was a fact, and that was all.

"I'm 27," she told him, stepping away from him back to the middle of the hallway. "I'll turn 28 in a couple of weeks."

He only nodded in response, his eyes following her. She did not look at him, but she knew almost instinctively that he was watching her carefully. Eager to escape his scrutiny, she gestured with her arms and asked overzealously, "Shall we begin the tour, then?"

"Of course, as soon as…"

"Willy! Rowena!" Charlie's voice called from the bottom of the stairs, and mere moments later he had bounded up beside them. "Wow, Willy! This is amazing!"

"Ah, right on cue!" Willy said with a smile, twirling his cane up into the crook of his arm. "I was wondering when you'd catch up."

"I had to help my mum with the dishes," he explained with a grin. His obvious amazement of the corridor mirrored Rowena's from moments before. His eyes were wide with wonder, and Willy fairly beamed at his reaction. "This is like an art gallery, or a palace!" he exclaimed, turning in a complete circle to take it all in.

"It is wonderful," Rowena agreed.

"It's supposed to be like a palace," Willy told them proudly. "When the factory first opened, dignitaries from all over the world came to visit. Princes, emperors, queens, prime ministers, football players…they were all here. I couldn't very well have them sleeping on the floor."

"But to never use it again…it seems such a shame," Rowena said thoughtfully.

"I am using it again," he reminded her, nodding in her direction.

"Yes, but I'm not a princess."

"But you _are_ a guest." Vaguely she wondered if she should be flattered.

"I can't wait to see what the rooms look like!" Charlie piped up, having moved further along the corridor and eyeing a tall door anxiously.

"Well, Charlie, you don't have to wait any longer," Willy assured him. He and Rowena joined him, and to her great surprise, Charlie took hold of her hand, squeezing it in her excitement. Absolutely charmed, she grinned down at him, and together they watched as Willy opened the door.

The deliciously sweet scent of fresh pineapple filled the air, and Rowena and Charlie sighed in unison. Willy stepped forward, flipping a gold switch. Light immediately filled the room. This time, Charlie and Rowena gasped. Mouths agape, they walked in slowly, unaware of Mr. Wonka's delighted grin.

The grand room was pineapple themed in every way. An identical chandelier like the one in the corridor hung in the middle of the room, shining its light on warm golden brown walls. Gold embossed pineapples glittered in diamond shaped patterns on the walls. The canopied bed that lay against the far wall was truly fit for a king, with shimmering green and gold bedding and silken pillows of every shape and size. A great mahogany armoire sported expert carvings of the fruit, and a coffee table in the middle of the room was indeed pineapple shaped.

"My word…" Rowena gasped, dragged along by Charlie to the center of the room. "It's so…"

"Delightful? Astounding? Unprecedented by any other themed room you've ever seen before?" Mr. Wonka supplied, tapping his cane on the floor.

"…Opulent," Rowena finished herself, eliciting a perplexed look from the man. "And delightful, of course!" she hastily amended, and Willy was beaming once more.

"It smells just like real pineapple!" Charlie said excitedly, inhaling deeply.

"Well, it is real pineapple," Willy told him. Their attention was drawn to the wide bowl on the coffee table, filled with freshly cut slices of pineapple.

"How do you keep fresh fruit in guest rooms that you don't even use?" Rowena pondered aloud, once again pulled along by Charlie as he neared the bowl of fruit.

"I don't," Willy said simply, sliding aside one of the many sitting cushions that surrounded the table with his foot. "Not when there aren't guests. But now there is one."

"You mean you put fresh fruit in every single room?"

"Of course not, silly. My Oompa-Loompas did. Now try a piece."

The sweet fruit was so tantalizing, Rowena and Charlie happily did as they were told, smiling at one another as the perfect pieces of pineapple touched their tongues. "This is the most amazing pineapple I've ever eaten!" Rowena said with an immensely satisfied smile.

"Well, Rowena, fruit is the essence behind many of the delicious candies Charlie and I create. My factory uses only the very best, ripest, and most delicious and delectable fruit available."

It took only one bite of pineapple to make Rowena believe that. "And that is why these rooms are fruit themed. It's a kind of homage, if you will, to the second best and most essential natural ingredient in candy making."

"The first being…"

"The cocoa bean, of course. I was tempted to make these rooms out of chocolate, but I wasn't sure if guests would appreciate going to sleep on a smooth bed of milk chocolate and waking up in chocolate syrup."

"I would!" Charlie said with a laugh. "Even if the chocolate melted all around you, you could still eat it!"

"Not everyone's as enthusiastic about chocolate as you are, Charlie," Rowena said with a smile.

"Like you," Willy supplied. There was that look again, that serious, assessing gaze that shone powerfully from his blue eyes. She was almost growing used to it, and could be certain that whatever she said next was for one reason or another being taken into serious consideration.

"I haven't had chocolate in years," Rowena agreed solemnly, her smile fading. "But that isn't to say I wasn't an enthusiast myself at one point."

"What happened?" Charlie questioned, practically unable to understand how anyone wouldn't enjoy chocolate and sweet things.

"I…" Rowena hesitated, a pained look briefly flashing across her features. "Perhaps that's a story for another time."

"No time like the present," Willy urged, his electrifying gaze growing even more intense. And somehow, oddly, strangely, for the first time in her life, Rowena was tempted to share her story, something she'd never once been coerced into doing.

"My family loved chocolate," she began quietly, her dark eyes glazing over as the memories filled her. "My mother did, especially. She had a favorite shop, just around the corner from where we lived, where she'd buy all sorts of wonderful chocolates."

"You didn't ever try any Wonka Bars?" Charlie asked doubtfully, truly perplexed.

"Well, no, we didn't. Mother only ever ate candies and chocolates from that little shop, and so did we. It was like a family tradition. Wherever our travels took us, whatever country we ended up in, the chocolates came, too. After my mother died, sweets didn't…they didn't taste the same to me any longer."

Charlie's eyes reflected true sadness, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I didn't know your mother died," he told her softly.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, she died with Fitz." That seemed to be too terrible for Charlie to imagine. He shook his head slowly, and strangely it was Rowena who tried to comfort him. "Don't worry, Charlie!" she urged, unable to endure this loving child so saddened by her own losses. "It's been years now, and I've quite moved on."

"How do you move on from something so terrible?" Charlie asked with wide eyes, and for a moment, Rowena had no answer for him. How had she moved on? By burying herself in mindless work, for one thing. By leaving behind all of the memories and traditions that proved to be too painful. And that was only the beginning.

"Sometimes, bad things happen, and we just have to…move on," she told him at last, feeling suddenly mortified at the turn the conversation had taken. If she had learned anything over the years, it was that people didn't want to hear your sad stories. Even her father had banned the deaths of his wife and son from any conversation, choosing instead to blithely ignore the fact that such a terrible thing had ever happened.

To this point, Mr. Wonka had stood silently. Daring to glance in his direction, Rowena detected something new shining in his eyes. Could it be sympathy that she saw? She glanced away again, plastering a smile on her face and kneeling down so she was face to face with Charlie. "Cheer up, Charlie," she said as cheerfully as she could, squeezing his shoulders gently. "You don't have to be sad on my behalf."

"But that's what friends do," Charlie said sincerely. His simple words drove straight into her heart, and Rowena stared at him in stunned silence. _Friends._ That's what _friends_ do, he had said. How strange it was to think that this young boy's assurance of friendship could mean so much to a woman of Rowena's age and experience.

"I'm so glad that we're friends, Charlie," she told him, her smile genuine now. "I'm lucky to have a friend as sweet and kind as you are." Charlie grinned, most of the sadness gone from his eyes, and without hesitation he threw his arms around her. She returned his hug unabashedly, seeing the sincere goodness in Charlie that she had found in his mother. How sad she would be to leave the Bucket family, but that was the way things had to be.

Pulling away from the friendly embrace, Rowena stood up and straightened her clothes, steadily avoiding eye contact with Mr. Wonka. Whatever his opinion on the matter was, he said nothing for now, and Rowena felt grateful for that fact. "Let's continue then, shall we?" she suggested, and the emotional moment passed.

Charlie and Rowena were led through room after room, marveling at the delicious themes of grapes, cherries, strawberries, watermelons, bananas, peaches and even pomegranates and mangoes. In each room they sampled the freshest of fruits, enjoying Mr. Wonka's eccentric narratives of the royal and esteemed personages who had stayed in each room.

Nearing the end of the great corridor, they had toured no less than 18 astounding guest rooms. Pausing before one of the two remaining doors, Willy hesitated as his hand grasped the doorknob. Turning to face the two, he smiled excitedly at Rowena. "I saved your favorite room for last," he told her with unveiled anticipation.

"How do you know it's my favorite?" she asked him quizzically, enjoying her own anticipatory feelings.

Without answering, he slowly opened the door, stepping in to turn on the lights. The scent of the room's theme rushed at them, and even before the room was illuminated, Rowena was smiling in true delight.

The room was themed with apples, her very favorite. Mr. Wonka had been right.

It was Rowena's turn to drag Charlie along, rushing about the room in what could only be described as glee. "It's incredible!" she gushed, clearly overjoyed. The room was themed in a variety of reds, similar in design to the rest of the rooms with its furniture and décor following the apple theme.

"You know what the best part about this room is?" Mr. Wonka questioned them, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"What's that?" Charlie asked eagerly, releasing Rowena's hand and moving to stand beside Willy.

"Well, Charlie, I'll tell you: it has the bounciest bed out of every bed here." Willy let his cane drop to the floor, and before Rowena could draw another breath, the pair had rushed for the four poster bed and scuttled onto it, bouncing with hoots and hollers as any young boys would.

"I bet I can bounce higher than you!" Willy taunted, and Charlie instantly rose to the challenge. Rowena watched them try to out bounce one another, grateful that this bed, unlike some of the others, did not sport a canopy of any sort, allowing them to jump without any reasonable fear of injury.

"Rowena!" Charlie yelled to her, gesturing for her to join.

"Oh, no, I can't!" she told him apologetically, smiling at their fun.

"Of course you can!" Willy insisted, and in unison the two stopped jumping. It was Charlie who clambered off of the bed, taking her firmly by the hand and leading her back to it.

"Charlie, no, no!" she cried, dragging her feet as best as she could.

"Yes, Rowena! Come on!" Looking from the boy to the bed, Rowena wondered vaguely if word of this would ever get back to her boss. Feeling reasonably sure that it never would, and suddenly experiencing the strangest desire to try out the purportedly bouncy bed, she acquiesced with a sigh and a grin, following Charlie as he climbed onto the bed.

"Now, then, is everybody ready?" Willy asked with a devilish grin, and Charlie nodded. Without further hesitation, all three began to jump up and down on the enormous bed. Rowena's jumps were timid at first, but with the encouragement of the other two, she was jumping and bouncing as vibrantly as they were. She was laughing soon, those melodious tones inspiring the same from the others so that they were soon all bursting with laughter.

After a few minutes they tired out, practically collapsing onto the plush surface of the bed. Charlie lay sprawled on his back, fighting to contain his laughter, while Rowena dropped to her knees and Willy fell back on his elbows. Somehow, miraculously, his hat had remained on his head, and his bobbed hair looked completely untouched. Winded and exhausted, the three sat in silence, waiting for their breathing to return to normal.

"You know what I think, Miss Rowena Victoria Chantilly?" Willy asked unexpectedly, rising smoothly from the bed and turning to face her. "You're not nearly as serious as you pretend to be. I wonder why you try to be so serious all the time when you really aren't."

Jaw dropping, she scrambled to come back with some kind of retort, searching for the words to deny his statement. "Come along, Charlie," Willy continued blithely, taking up his cane and heading for the door. "I promised your mother I'd have you back at a reasonable hour, and it's very nearly 8:30."

Rowena was stunned with how much time had passed. The tour of the guest rooms had proven to be so enjoyable, the time had truly flown by. It had left her tired, too, and the thought of sleep was a welcome one to her.

"Oh, Rowena?" Willy called from the doorway. "You should find everything you need in the armoire. I'll be by at eight tomorrow morning so we can finish our tour."

She nodded, and Willy bid her farewell before following Charlie into the corridor. The door clicked shut behind them, and soon their conversation drifted away into silence. Rowena was left alone, her thoughts already beginning to prey upon her.


	6. Questions in the Night

**AN: After a long battle with writer's block, I'm back in action. This chapter is pretty long and features three different perspectives, but I decided that I preferred one long chapter over three small ones. **

"Mum, have you ever lost anyone close to you?" Mrs. Bucket was folding linens at the now empty table, and Charlie had seated himself nearby. His question wasn't entirely startling to her. She knew that it had everything to do with Rowena, who Mrs. Bucket had already worried about a great deal. All alone in one of the guest bedrooms that Charlie had just finished describing to her, she couldn't help but worry that the woman would become lonesome in the night.

Her son's question was a kind of needed distraction despite the subject matter. "I've been very lucky, Charlie. I have you and your father, and of course your grandparents are all here with us. We even have Willy as part of our family, now. But I did have a grandfather of my own that I miss very much."

"What was he like?" Charlie watched her as she expertly folded a long tablecloth, his chin resting on his folded arms.

"Well," she began with a smile, "His name was Grandpa Robert, and he was as tall and thick as any man I've ever seen. He had a big peppery beard, and he always smelled like his pipe. When he hugged me, he would scoop me up into his arms and spin me around until I was so dizzy I couldn't even stand." She sighed happily, the memories all very pleasant. "I miss him very much."

"But you've moved on?" Mrs. Bucket paused, setting the tablecloth on the table and going to sit beside Charlie.

"Moved on? Well, I suppose that I have, but that's not exactly how I'd put it."

Charlie gave her a confused look, turning in his chair to face her. "That's what Rowena said when she told me her mother died."

Mrs. Bucket drew in a sharp breath. "Rowena told you that her mother died?"

He nodded slowly. "She said that she died with her brother. Then she said that bad things happen, and sometimes you just have to move on."

Now Mrs. Bucket thought that she was beginning to understand. So Miss Chantilly was living in the shadow of personal tragedy, whether she knew it or not. And somehow her young son had wheedled some of the details from her.

"In my heart, Charlie, I can't say that I've truly 'moved on,' because I will always miss Grandpa Robert. But everyone deals with loss in a different way."

"I think that Rowena is still sad."

"I do too, Charlie. She loved them, and so she will always miss them and will always be sad without them. But she has to live her life, has to find ways to be happy. I think that she is very brave, and probably in need of a good friend."

"That's why we're her friends." Charlie smiled sadly, and his mother reached out to rumple his hair.

"You are exactly right, Charlie. But no more talking. It's off to bed with you."

Charlie nodded as he hugged Mrs. Bucket. She squeezed him tightly, pecking him on the cheek before releasing him. "I love you, Charlie."

"I love you too, Mum. Night."

As he crossed the room to the ladder that would take him to his lofty perch above the room, Mrs. Bucket rested her chin in her hand and propped her elbow on the table. If she had been troubled about the young woman before now it was doubly worse. How on earth could she help a woman who was unaware of the great help she needed? Rowena would only be at the factory another day, so it was completely out of her hands. The best she could do, as she had hinted to Charlie, was to be her friend. She only hoped that that would be enough.

* * *

It wasn't unusual for Willy Wonka, the amazing chocolatier himself, to spend sleepless nights thinking on new ideas. In the still of the night his mind came alive, filled with thoughts and inspirations that he could barely contain. Rather than fight a hopeless battle trying to sleep, Willy spent most of his nights envisioning the marvelous creations that spun so naturally from his brilliant mind.

Tonight was no exception. Lying perfectly still in the exact center of his bed, he let his mind journey wherever it pleased. That, he had found many times over in the past, was how the best and often most stunning ideas revealed themselves. But Mr. Wonka was about to find that there was more on his mind than candy and chocolates. A certain insurance agent was occupying his thoughts.

He'd been thinking of chocolate bunnies for the next Easter. _Perhaps if they actually hopped instead of just sitting in their boxes… Boy, what fun that would be! _And then, somehow mingled into his thoughts of bouncing bunnies, he saw her in his mind's eye, laughing as she jumped on the bed. That laugh of hers was unlike anything he'd ever heard before. It was more of a song than a laugh, all melodious and sweet and with no harshness.

He'd thought he'd sized her up adequately the moment he'd met her, but every moment with her seemed to reveal something new. It was most unnerving, especially for a man who had hardly ever given a thought to any one woman in particular in his entire life. Chocolate was his lady love, his grand passion. What use had he for icky thoughts of romance and family?

Clearing his throat, Willy was determined to clear his mind and try again. _Chocolate bunnies, chocolate bunnies…All righty then. If they hop around, they might begin to multiply. That could be a big problem-o. On second thought, no hopping unless they're kept well away from one another. They'll just have to learn to behave. _His thoughts were drifting from one idea to the next, unfocused and unorganized. It wasn't long before Rowena made another appearance in his mind's eye.

There was something special about her, something unique. And, dear heavens, how unnerving _that_ was. He didn't know what it was, couldn't place the mysterious element at all. If he wasn't careful, she'd start to notice how he couldn't keep his eyes off of her, or the way he actually hung on her every word. It wasn't like him at all, and he had a certain reputation to uphold.

Was she lonely? He wondered, thinking of her all alone in the guest wing. She was a grown woman who could take care of herself, of course, but would she be comfortable? She obviously knew how to put on a brave front, but what if… His curiosity was aroused. Sleep would never find him now, and he'd never be able to continue his brainstorming in peace.

His mind was made up immediately after that. Rolling from the bed, he sought his hat in its usual place, sitting on his desk across the room. He wrapped himself in a purple velvet robe, hiding his crimson pajamas beneath. Slippers on, he was ready to go, and left his room in a hurry.

* * *

_The warm waters of the lake were a perfect sapphire blue, glimmering in the midday sun that shone brightly over the dense trees that surrounded them. Fitz was already in the water, diving and frolicking with boundless energy. Standing on the banks beside her father, a young Rowena laughed at his boyish antics. "You look like a fish, Fitz!" she called to him, and he grinned at her in return._

_"Come on, Ro! Jump in!" Her father, chuckling beside her, nodded with a smile when she glanced up for permission. Needing no further urging, the golden haired girl jumped into the cool waters with great aplomb, still wearing her favorite green sundress. _

_"Hurry up, Ro!" Fitz urged from the middle of the lake. With small but expert strokes, Rowena began to swim for him. With each breath of air she was laughing still, like a young glittering mermaid enjoying a playful day on the surface of the water. Fitz was treading water, waving and waiting for her. _

_She should have reached him long before, but somehow the distance between them was widening. Why was her brother not alarmed? Couldn't he see that something was keeping them apart? "Fitz?" she called out tentatively, her laugher gone and her smile fading. _

_But the boy that had been in the lake before was gone now, and an older version of Fitz was left in his place. "Good bye, Ro," he told her calmly, that devilish half-grin of his teasing the corner of his mouth. "We're going out for a bit. We'll be back later." And then he dove beneath the surface, and all was still._

_"Fitz? Fitz!" She stroked through the water as quickly as she could, desperation eating away at her belly. "Fitz, please! Come back! Don't go, Fitz, I'm frightened for you!" He was gone and she couldn't reach him, no matter how hard she struggled. Where was father? Why wouldn't he help them? This couldn't be real, it couldn't be happening! _

_"Fitz, please! Fitz!"_

"Fitz!"

Rowena bolted upright, gasping for breath in the cool night air. It wasn't real. It had been a nightmare and nothing more, a dear childhood memory transformed into something twisted and painful. Clutching the smooth sheets to her, she waited for her breathing to return to normal. The images were fading away now, as they did following every nightmare she'd endured for the past six years. Soon she'd forget it enough to slip back to sleep, and by morning the event would be forgotten entirely. Forgotten until the next nightmare, that was, though they were fewer and farther between anymore.

She knew very well why the nightmares had followed her this night. Revealing some of her story had brought the pain back to the surface, the very reason she chose never to speak of it. It didn't matter, she promised herself, wiping away cold sweat clinging to her brow. By tomorrow evening she'd be home, safe in her little world where she could focus solely on her work. She'd be safe from the nightmares then, at least for a time.

Ready to lie back and try to sleep again, Rowena was suddenly aware of the sound of footsteps outside in the hallway. She'd been surrounded by impenetrable silence all night; there was no mistaking the steady footfalls that came from the hallway beyond. Alert and fearful, Rowena was reminded of the attempted break in earlier that afternoon. Were the footsteps those of the culprit, trying yet again to penetrate into the factory?

Something had to be done. Surely whoever it was couldn't know she was sleeping in the room, but that didn't mean they wouldn't enter it looking for valuables or whatever it was that criminals did. And even if they didn't, someone had to alert Mr. Wonka and the Bucket family. No one could be safe with some foul villain afoot in the factory. Creeping from her bed, Rowena tried unsuccessfully to ignore the pounding of her heart. This was no time to be afraid; like it or not, heroics were called for. In another time and place, another life entirely, she'd been no stranger to danger and adventure. She had only to channel her younger self, grasp onto those few remaining threads from days gone by…

It wasn't working. Nothing would quench the fear that filled her, yet she moved quietly for the door despite its voracious appetite. Pausing only to take up the hairbrush she had found in the armoire and left on the table, she was at the door much sooner than she would have liked. Wrapped in a royal purple terrycloth bathrobe that sported a rather large golden W, she was hardly dressed for a confrontation with some sort of baddy.

She could hear nothing now. Either the footsteps had passed by, or whoever was out there was waiting on the other side of the door. That thought alone nearly sent her flying back to her warm, soft bed, where she could hide beneath the blankets and pretend that this wasn't happening. Yet it _was_ happening, and no amount of hiding and cowering would change that fact.

Her fingers quivered as she reached for the door handle. She had two choices: open the door slowly and pray that whoever was out there was far enough away not to hear her, or throw it open as quickly as possible, giving her the element of surprise if the intruder was still there.

She chose the latter. Before she could change her mind, she grasped tightly onto the door handle and threw the door wide open. A shadowy figure stumbled back and raced away from her in the darkness and a quick, shrill scream escaped her lips. Adrenaline and terror were fueling her now, pushing her to move forward, to act! Dashing into the thick, ominous darkness of the hall, Rowena could just make out the lone figure fleeing away. Drawing her arm back, she hurled the hairbrush with all her might, watching it disappear as it flew hard and fast away from her.

There were three very strange sounds that echoed through the hall immediately after she released the projectile. First, there was a dull thud. The hairbrush had miraculously found its mark. The second was the strangest of all; a loud, solid _thwack_ reverberated past her, and finally the whoosh of a body collapsing to the ground preceded an eerie stillness.

Rowena waited, breath abated, heart pounding high in her throat. She had felt for one brief moment like a true Amazonian warrior. Now she was reduced yet again to a frozen, frightened thing, unable to move from where she stood. Silence was all around her, and then…

"_Ouch!_" a man's voice gasped. Rowena's hands flew to her mouth. She knew that voice. There was no vile intruder lingering in the hallway, only Mr. Wonka, the factory's owner in the flesh. Taking a few shaky steps forward, her eyes fought to adjust to the deepening darkness.

"Mr. Wonka?" she called out tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Uh, yeah, starshine…" was the hesitant reply, sweeping away any lingering doubt. Rowena was all action again, swiftly searching out the light pull. Locating it, she blinked her eyes several times to adjust to the blinding light of the illuminated chandeliers high above them.

Finally able to see clearly, Rowena was absolutely positive that she was dreaming. Willy Wonka was standing a few feet ahead of her, hat firmly on his head despite the fact that he was in pajamas and robe, and he was leaning ever so casually against a very solid, very _invisible_ wall. "I'm dreaming," she muttered, voicing her doubts aloud in a dizzy sounding voice.

Willy looked at her queerly, his brows furrowing momentarily. Realizing the problem, he hastily straightened up, taking a step closer toward her. "Oh, why of course you're not," he hastily assured her. "It's just my Glass Elevator. I always forget where I park the darn thing."

"Glass…elevator?" Rowena repeated slowly, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. "I…don't even want to ask," she finally declared, sagging against the wall.

"Probably best that you don't," Wonka replied cryptically, slowly closing the space between them. There was embarrassment and uncertainty written plainly across his pale, pale features, and Rowena wasn't really sure if he wanted to say something or simply turn around and bolt. He looked very much like a young boy who had gotten into some sort of mischief and was now facing the judgment of a very irate authority figure.

Shaking her head bemusedly, she turned on her heels and returned to her room, burningly aware of Willy following uncertainly behind her. She found the light switch once inside, filling the room with more bright light. "Y'know, you sure do have a powerful throw, Rowena," Willy announced as he hovered unsteadily in the doorway.

Running a hand through her hair, Rowena felt a waterfall of guilt pour down upon her. "Mr. Wonka, I'm so sorry about, um, striking you," she sighed, facing him with a small guilty smile.

"And with a hairbrush, of all things," he huffed.

"Of course I didn't know it was you; I assure you that if I had, I would never…" She swallowed hard, shivering despite the warm robe she wore. Finally making his mind up, Willy came further into the room after shutting the door behind him. The room was beginning to feel very, very small.

"Mind if I sit down, kiddo?" he asked as he moved toward the table, settling himself onto one of the cushions before she could answer. Rhetorical question, apparently. And what, Rowena wondered, was with the nicknames? Kiddo? _Starshine?_ Anything was preferable to hearing her proper name spouted off again and again, but this was a new dynamic that she didn't know how to react to.

"I heard someone in the hall," she told him, trying her best to explain her behavior. "I thought about the attempted break in earlier, and I thought that it might be the intruder coming back."

Mr. Wonka shook his head, glancing at her sharply like she was quite frankly out of her mind. "If there was an intruder, you would have heard the alarm, silly."

"But there's always a possibility that someone could bypass the alarm."

"Not this alarm. I designed it myself. Unless they're invited into the factory, no one can get inside without the alarm being triggered. It's just that simple." He paused, regarding her curiously as she sat on a cushion across from him. "But if you thought someone had broken in, why on earth would you run _towards_ the bad guy and not _away_ from him?"

Rowena laughed shakily, trying to remember the reasoning behind her actions. "I wanted to warn you and the Buckets."

"My, that's awfully noble of you." He was examining a white piece of lint on his immaculate purple robe, grasping onto it and flicking it away with a distasteful glower.

"I didn't think I had it in me anymore."

"Anymore?" Wonka pressed, tilting his head quizzically. Drat, she hadn't meant to say that. And he was watching her again, which she already knew had the strangest effect on her.

"I was braver in my youth," she told him as nonchalantly as possible, examining her fingernails in order to avoid eye contact. If she met his gaze, she knew full and well she'd be done for.

"But you're still in your youth," he insisted calmly.

"But I'm not as young as I once was. I'm older and wiser now."

He paused, thinking over her words. "You don't think it's immature and foolish to be brave and valiant, do you?"

He had her there. "No, of course not, but I don't go chasing after danger any more, either."

"Which is to say that you were once a seeker of danger?" Rowena shut her eyes tightly, trying her best to calm her racing thoughts. She was giving away too much, more than she'd ever given to any other person she knew. Hadn't she put all of this away long ago? She had only one choice now. It was time to change the subject again.

Opening her eyes, she dared to glance at him. "Mr. Wonka, what were you doing lingering outside my door?"

A tiny smile appeared on his face as his white complexion flushed. Rowena's dark eyes held a challenge in them, daring him to give her a proper excuse for such strange behavior. "_Well_, I was just, um, walking."

"Walking? Whatever do you mean?"

"Hard of hearing there, Rowena? Yes, I was _walking_, as any upright bipedal man often does."

She took the opportunity to glance at a large gold apple-shaped clock on the wall. "You're telling me that at two in the morning you just happened to be taking a stroll along a pitch black hallway, and in a guest wing that you purportedly never use?" Now she had the upper hand. His smile grew into a larger sheepish one, and he started looking at his hands. Rowena realized with a start that they were gloveless. Oddly, her heart seemed to skip a beat as she studied them. They were absolutely _perfect_ hands, as pale as the rest of him and without any flaw of any kind. She tore her gaze away from them, searching for something, _anything_ else to focus on.

"Well, it _is_ my factory," he reminded her rather flippantly. "I can do as I please. If I wanted to lead a parade of dancing monkeys through the halls, I could. If I wanted to broadcast the Russian national anthem through the whole factory, I could. And if I wanted to make sure my guest was sleeping soundly, well, I could most certainly do that, too."

"You came-you came to check on me?" Rowena sputtered, hardly able to believe such a thing. "So you were going to knock on my door and--"

"Knock on your door? Don't be ridiculous. Then I might have woken you up."

"Then you were just standing there in order to…"

"Listen. To make sure you weren't still awake."

Rowena was confused again, but apparently so was Willy. "How would you have known if I was awake? It's not as though I would have been speaking aloud."

"Well, you were, actually, but you most certainly weren't awake, little dreamer."

None of it really made sense to Rowena, but then again, Mr. Wonka was an enigma to her. With the way he was looking at her now, she was sure he thought the same of her. "I sometimes talk in my sleep," she finally admitted, hoping there would be no more talk on the matter. Naturally, she was wrong.

"How strange," Willy said softly, his eyes never leaving her face.

"It's not, not really," she tried to assure him unconvincingly. "Lots of people talk in their sleep."

"Yes, but not everyone shouts."

She'd been shouting? Oh, no, what had she said? Surely nothing incriminating, she desperately hoped. She couldn't bear to ask him what she'd said, and her face was growing terribly warm as a blush crept across her cheeks. Mr. Wonka seemed terribly pleased at her blush, smiling that wide, childish grin of his. "Y'know, you look just like a strawberry when you blush," he giggled, and Rowena's pink face turned crimson.

Willy popped up from the floor, straightening his robe and adjusting his hat. "I think that about does it, then," he said saccharinely, marching straight for the door. "Boy, did we cover a lot of ground tonight." Rowena watched him go, perplexed by his words. Of course they hadn't covered any ground. What ground was there to cover?

"Sleep tight, little dreamer. I'll be back for you first thing in the morning, and then we'll _really_ have some fun. Ta!" And then he was gone for the second time that night, the door slamming shut behind him. Sighing heavily, Rowena fell back on the plush sitting cushions, her arms flopping on either side of her head. She would never, _ever_ understand the factory's reclusive owner. Childish and unbearable one moment, darkly mysterious the next. The dizzy woman seriously wondered if the man suffered from some kind of personality disorder.

"That can't possibly be right," she whispered aloud, idly twirling the remains of a curl around her finger. Willy Wonka was not unstable, she was almost positive. On the contrary, she had a sneaking suspicion that he was playing an elaborate game of some kind, sporting an elaborate facade to keep the world at bay.

In other words, he was _just like her._


	7. A Small Matter

When sleep found Rowena again, she dreamed of chocolate. To most normal people, it would have been a wonderful dream, but for her, it was a deceptively sweet manifestation of another nightmare. For some unaccountable reason, she awoke absolutely infuriated. In one form or another, Willy Wonka had finagled his way into her dreams and she knew it. What other reason was there to dream of something she didn't even ever think about?

Soft shafts of sunlight warmed the room, and with quick, jerky motions Rowena tore herself from the bed and strode into the bathroom. She had a new sense of purpose today, a renewal of her determination to get the job done and get it done right. If word ever got back to Geoffrey in the London office, unlikely as it was, she was done for. In her mind, the integrity of her work ethic was being called into question. Her personal and professional lives needed to be kept far from one another, and by heaven, she'd make sure there would be no more slipups today.

Like the rest of her suite, the bathroom was fit for a queen. Standing before a rather lovely gold framed mirror, she examined herself with a critical eye. Miraculously, most of the makeup on her face had survived the night. Without the benefit of any of her own things, she had to make do with whatever she could find. Glancing around, her attention was drawn to an absolutely beautiful gold tub. A quick bath in a tub like _that _was exactly what she needed. Smiling pleasantly despite her mood, she ran the water until it was almost scalding, then sat idly by while it filled. An assortment of bottles and bars were arranged along the edge beside the wall, and discovering a pretty glass vial of bubble bath, she added the thick red liquid to the running water.

Throwing off the robe she had slept in, she scampered into the tub. The soothing hot water was enough to make her sigh in something close to euphoria, and she indulged in a brief soak. The deliciously crisp scent of apples surrounded her, and for those brief few minutes she felt positively heavenly.

If she had been anywhere else in the world, Rowena would have been tempted to throw caution to the wind for another few minutes and remain where she was. But since she had already been startled by a most untimely visit by Mr. Wonka the night before, she was not taking any chances. Her bath finished, she toweled off and dressed carefully in her outfit from the day before. Everything was as it should be and to her liking, her clothing wrinkle free and delightfully no-nonsense. With the toothbrush and toothpaste she had found the night before, she gladly brushed her teeth vigorously.

There was one last detail to be considered; her hair. The long blonde tresses were next to impossible even in the best light, and after a fitful night they were positively wild. Rowena had been careful to pile it onto her head with a few stray bobby pins from her briefcase before her bath, but it had come undone and gave her the appearance of a wild thing. If she was being perfectly honest with herself, those waves of hers had not always been so bothersome. In days long since past, she'd even enjoyed that the sprightly hair had a mind of its own. Now it was simply intolerable to her.

Worst of all, she was forced to comb through it with her fingers since the hairbrush she had wielded the night before was still in the hallway somewhere, and Rowena would absolutely not risk anyone seeing her before she was ready to be seen. She just managed to pin it into a tolerable French twist of sorts, and at last she was ready to face her final day in factory.

Not a moment too soon, either. A series of rapid knocks on the door alerted her. "Rowena!" Charlie's happy voice accompanied the knocks. She couldn't help a small smile as she hurried to the door, genuinely pleased that it was Charlie who had come to fetch her instead of Mr. Wonka. Truth be told, she was in no hurry to meet up with him. If the previous day was any indication, it would take every ounce of self control she had not to react to his bizarre behavior. Quite simply she couldn't let him provoke anymore strange responses and feelings from her. She opened the door smoothly, smiling down at the boy who stood in the doorway.

"Morning, Rowena!"

"Good morning, Charlie," she returned rather sweetly. Her smile fell away immediately when Mr. Wonka appeared from around the corner and strolled into the room. Evidently, Charlie hadn't come alone as she had supposed.

"Rise and shine, Little Dreamer," he beamed, twirling his cane. Dressed in his full Wonka regalia, the only difference was a plum vest that peeked from beneath his crimson jacket. It was an odd color combination, one that Rowena tried promptly to ignore. What did it matter to her what he wore?

"Shall we begin, Mr. Wonka?" she questioned in a tone that matched her mood. He faltered a bit, whirling to face her and smiling broadly in that childish simplicity of his she was beginning to know so well.

"All business this morning I see," he said with a tip of his hat.

"Naturally," was her crisp reply, going to the foot of the bed to gather her briefcase. "This is a business meeting of sorts, after all." Gliding past Mr. Wonka without so much as a glance, she joined Charlie in the hall. "And how was your night, Charlie?" she asked him, her voice softening. With Mr. Wonka, of course, it was business as usual; but with Charlie, despite being the factory owner's partner and protégé, it was different. He was a boy, and a dear, sweet one at that. On top of it all, she rather liked him, so she rationalized that being friendly with him wasn't a problem.

"My night was great," he assured her, taking her hand as he had done the day before. "Mum was hoping you'd come and have breakfast with us."

"Oh. Well, yes, I suppose we have time. That would be wonderful." She realized that she meant it. All right then, breakfast with the Buckets was harmless; she had to eat, and she found that she looked forward to seeing Charlie's family again. After breakfast, there would be time enough for work.

Mr. Wonka had joined them, a strange look on his face, and for one brief moment Rowena felt a little guilty for ignoring him. "Will you be joining us too, Mr. Wonka?" she asked him as nonchalantly as possible, and was more than a little surprised when that childish grin of his returned in an instant.

"Natch," he replied pleasantly, and without further ado he preceded down the hallway. As Charlie and Rowena followed behind, Charlie asked her plenty of questions about her night in the guest wing. Rowena answered them as politely as possible without hinting at her unorthodox run-in with Willy.

The Chocolate Room was as vibrant as she remembered it, her senses fairly tingling from the electrifying colors and sweet, scintillating smells. They took to the path alongside the river of chocolate, and briefly the rich smell of the churning liquid chocolate came close to tempting her. Her stomach betrayed her and growled quietly. Perhaps she was hungrier than she realized.

"Ready to try something?" Mr. Wonka called from behind her. Rolling her eyes, she casually turned around to face him.

"No thank you, Mr. Wonka. I already told you yesterday, I don't enjoy sweet things." Her explanation had clearly moved Charlie, but Rowena remained terribly uncertain about how Mr. Wonka had taken her reasons for no longer caring for sweets.

"How do you know you don't enjoy them if you don't even try them anymore?" They were back to square one. Rowena placed her hands on her hips, preparing a reply, but Willy continued uninterrupted. "And for that matter, how do you know that you just don't enjoy _those_ chocolates that you used to eat? You haven't even tried _my_ chocolate. And I assure you that there is positively no comparison."

"That's ridiculous, Mr. Wonka," Rowena argued, feeling her annoyance on the rise. "Like I told you already, I just don't enjoy candy and sweets. Whether it's Slugworth's or Wonka's, I don't eat chocolate anymore."

Willy froze, his hand partially raised as if he was going to make a point. His eyes hardened in a way she'd never seen before, and an unnatural chill descended on the pair.

"_What_ did you say?" he ground out, his voice so soft and intense that Rowena felt a trickle of fear run down her spine.

"Slugworth's," she muttered, shaking her head in confusion. "That's the shop we bought our chocolates from." If it was possible, the chocolatier's eyes gleamed even colder. Like an approaching predator he took two slow, deliberate steps up to her, leaning over her until his nose nearly touched her own.

"Well then, that just takes the cake, doesn't it?" he continued, trapping her in his powerful gaze. "Now you _have_ to try something."

"No, I don't," she challenged despite the warning bells going off in her head.

"Uh, yeah, you do."

"Mr. Wonka, you can't _make_ me try your chocolate."

He tilted his head slowly and meaningfully toward the rushing river just beside them, his eyes never leaving hers. "You sure about that, starshine?"

Forgetting her fear, Rowena was filled with fury, and she lifted her chin proudly to meet his gaze with a cold one of her own. "You wouldn't _dare_," she needled, every inch of her electrified in righteous indignation at his horrible threat.

He laughed shortly, tossing his head back briefly before replying daringly, "Oh, _wouldn't_ I?" Their standoff continued in silence, each one daring the other with unspoken words to try their worst. Neither could be moved, and both felt assured that they had the greater right to be upset.

"Um, Willy?" Charlie's soft voice interrupted, bringing Rowena immediately back to reality. Her eyes broke free from Wonka's challenging stare, and she saw Charlie approach the man and tug gently on his jacket. "What are you doing?"

The boy's perplexed question seemed the key in bringing Wonka around, and blinking several times, he stumbled back awkwardly to face Charlie. "I…don't know, Charlie," was his incredulous reply, as though he had just been awoken from a trance. "But she…she…" he tried to argue when Charlie gave him a powerful look of disappointment, but his words faltered.

Rowena found that she was perfectly capable of speech, and reaching a hand out to Charlie, she announced, "Let's hurry along, Charlie. We mustn't keep your mother waiting." With an indignant toss of her head, she left with Charlie leading the way, fighting to contain her lingering anger. Abandoned to his own devices, Willy seemed to recover quickly and sauntered along behind them.

Crossing the bridge with Charlie, Rowena was still fairly seething. Sensing this, Charlie looked up at her with a kind look in his eyes. "Don't be mad at Willy, Rowena," he pleaded softly. "He was just angry because you mentioned…_Slugworth_." He whispered the name, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the meandering Willy didn't overhear.

"But I don't understand why that would make him so angry," she whispered in return.

"Well, Slugworth is one of the reasons he had to shut down his factory a few years ago. He kept stealing his recipes and secrets and almost put Willy out of business." Rowena pondered this for a moment. For a man who loved chocolate as much as Willy Wonka, losing the factory would be like losing his life's work. Reluctantly beginning to understand, she sighed shakily, feeling some of her anger slip away.

"I didn't know that, Charlie. That's…well, that's rather despicable of Slugworth, isn't it? I guess it's a good thing I don't fancy his chocolates anymore." Charlie squeezed her hand, his smile growing.

"That's all right, Rowena. You couldn't have known. Willy knows that, too." And for whatever inexplicable reason, that made her feel much better.

They had reached the rickety little house, and Charlie raced in through the door with Rowena. "Mum, we're here!" he announced, leaving Rowena and hurrying into the kitchen. She could feel Mr. Wonka entering behind, sensing him as he stood beside her. He said nothing, merely standing with his gloved hands resting on top of his cane.

Rowena could feel an apology welling up inside her, and with all her might she fought against it. Why should _she_ apologize? She hadn't done anything wrong, of course. Why should she feel any regret about their heated argument? But her guilt would not be ignored, and in a whirl of words she blurted out, "I'm sorry if I upset you by mentioning Slug—I mean, that other person."

Willy said nothing, staring down at her with a look of perplexity. The intensity was there, and she knew he was carefully analyzing _something_, though she still had no idea what that could be. Mrs. Bucket came out from the kitchen, wreathed in smiles. "Come in, Rowena, Willy. Make yourselves comfortable at the table. Breakfast will be ready in just a minute."

Grateful for the brief escape, Rowena moved for the table, smiling at Charlie's grandparents who were already seated there. She was very much aware of Willy settling into the seat beside her, and she scooted as far in her chair as she was able to the other side.

"I would never have thrown you into the river." Mr. Wonka's words were for her ears only. Her breath caught in her chest. Slowly she eased herself back to the center of the chair, lacing her fingers together and placing them on the table.

"I know you wouldn't have," she responded in the same secretive tone. Against all odds, she knew it was true. Their disagreement appeared to be over, at least until Willy added, "Even if I wanted to."

She wanted to be angry, truly she did, but her emotions rebelled and reversed themselves. Rowena found herself laughing again. "How very assuring," she added between laughs, but stopped short. All eyes were on her, each of the table's elderly occupants trying to divulge exactly what had happened to send her laughing. Embarrassed and blushing, she cleared her throat and excused herself, seeking in the kitchen with Charlie and Mrs. Bucket. She could feel Willy's eyes following her as she hurried away.

"Come back to the battlefront, have you?" Mrs. Bucket quipped when Rowena joined her and her son.

"I was hoping I could help," she replied with an unsure smile.

"Well, how do you feel about eggs?"

Relief filled her and her smile deepened. "Eggs! Of course! I do know a thing or two about eggs, I'm happy to say."

"Wonderful," Mrs. Bucket called over her shoulder, hurrying to the stove where sizzling bacon was ready to be turned over. "Then I would love your help!"

* * *

Not long after Charlie wandered back to the table, sitting to the left of Rowena's empty chair. "I don't know why cooking is so much fun to them," he pondered honestly, furrowing his brow. A burst of laughter echoed from the kitchen.

"Well, Charlie," Willy responded slowly, his gaze fixed unerringly in the kitchen's direction. "Women are strange creatures. Just when you think you understand them, they go and do something totally unexpected. You think you've got it all figured out, and wham-o! By the next day, you realize you're one-hundred-percent-completely-wrong."

Charlie looked at him curiously, perplexed by Willy's strangely glowing eyes. "Willy, are you talking about Rowena?" he asked candidly, and Willy gave a little jump.

"_Rowena?_ What…why…no! I'm talking about strange women and their mysterious behavior. What does that have to do with Rowena?"

It was Grandpa Joe who chuckled at Willy's response, watching him from across the table with a wise old smile. "And what, may I ask, is so funny?" Willy demanded lightly.

"Willy, my boy, when a pretty girl is on your mind there's nothing to be ashamed of. She's intelligent and interesting and even perhaps a bit secretive, that much I can see. And if that means you like her, in whatever way that may be, then there's nothing wrong with that. It's only natural."

"Nonsense," Willy scoffed, straightening his jacket. "Just because she's intelligent and interesting and _very _secretive doesn't make me think of her. Just because she's pretty and has a wonderful laugh and smells like apples this morning and I want her to try my chocolate because I know she'll just _love_ it doesn't mean a thing." His hand had punctuated the air during his rushed response, and now it was frozen there, hovering in midair as realization dawned on him.

"Oh. I like her, don't I," he mumbled, letting his hand slowly fall.

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. "Of course you like her, Willy! I like her, too. Everyone does."

"Charlie," Grandpa Joe interrupted with a sly smile. "I think what Willy means is--"

"How 'bout a little more _shh_ over there, Grandpa Joe, 'kay? Thanks." Willy had been quick to cut him off, glancing a little worriedly in Charlie's direction. Charlie didn't seem to catch on, shrugging his shoulders and sitting back in his chair.

"Well, I like her, and I'm sad she has to go today," he murmured sincerely.

Willy Wonka looked on to the kitchen and said nothing.


	8. The Tour Begins

**AU: What my reviews lack in quantity they more than make up for in quality. My sincere appreciation to those of you that have reviewed. I love how thoughtful you are and I am so grateful for your honesty. I love this story and I want to see it through to the end, and all of your lovely reviews keep me on the path to accomplishing that. So, I guess what I'm saying is...thank you! **

* * *

Breakfast ended all too soon. The food had been delicious, the conversation lively, and best of all, Rowena had managed not to say anything about her personal life. Progress, indeed. Yet she couldn't help but notice strange looks directed her way from several members of the table's occupants. Mrs. Bucket was cheerful and friendly as always, but once they had settled at the table, she had been careful in her words. And Grandpa Joe had watched her very keenly throughout the meal, a strangely satisfied smile on his lips. Stranger still, Mr. Wonka had sat silent through the meal, focusing on his plate full of fluffy scrambled eggs, crisp bacon and perfectly cooked hash browns. There had been no little arguments, no needling comments, not even one of his strange looks in her direction. 

Come to think of it, it was all a little _too_ strange. Rowena was walking alongside Charlie as the two followed Mr. Wonka's lead away from the comfortable Bucket home. Even now the chocolatier said nothing to her, walking quickly ahead and leaving the other two to scramble behind him. In her black pumps, she was finding the trek through the candied field particularly uneasy, but she was more than determined to keep her peace. The tour was beginning now; she had only to complete it and then she could be on her way, back to her London flat and her paperwork and her perfectly organized life.

"So, Charlie, what do you think?" Willy had stopped suddenly, whirling around to address his young protégé. Just like that, he seemed to be himself again, though there was something new sparkling in his eyes. If Rowena wasn't mistaken, it looked almost like he'd come to a decision over something, whatever that could be. "Should we start our little tour by land, by sea, or in the air?" Charlie seemed to understand his cryptic words perfectly.

"Why don't we ask Rowena?" he suggested, angling to face her. "If you could choose between a boat, a glass elevator, and regular old halls and stairs, which one would you choose?" There it was again, another mention of a glass elevator. Rowena was entirely intrigued by such a notion, but she was hesitant. Willy's gaze finally fell on her, and its intensity seemed greater than it had ever been before. She knew that her answer, for reasons inexplicable to her, would be weighed carefully. To what end, well, she couldn't even begin to imagine.

"I would say…a glass elevator." Charlie looked a little surprised at her answer, but Mr. Wonka…well, he looked so _pleased_.

"Excellent choice," he resounded, turning back around and striding away.

"Exactly what _is_ a glass elevator?" Rowena asked Charlie as they hurried after him.

"Just what it sounds like," Charlie laughed. "It's an elevator made of glass, and it can take us anywhere in the factory. In fact, it could take us anywhere at all!"

"Anywhere?" Rowena could hardly believe such a thing was possible.

"Anywhere!" Willy called over his shoulder, his hearing apparently sharpened for the moment. "Sideways, longways, slantways, you name it! Now, the only trick is finding where I left the darn thing…" _Thwack!_ Willy collided with a nearly invisible wall, and stumbling backwards he called out cheerfully, "Found it!"

Pushing a button that Rowena couldn't even see, Willy angled his head to smile at her excitedly. To her great annoyance, her heart gave a little leap. That was something she absolutely would _not _tolerate, and especially when she couldn't even understand why her heart would betray her so. There were no feelings to be considered, nothing to be excited about. This was business, for heaven's sake, business!

Doing her best to ignore him, she stood in awe of the large rectangular contraption that she had only just noticed. Made entirely of glass as promised, she hadn't even seen it standing right there in the open and before her very eyes. On top of the strange device was the only truly conspicuous part, a jumble of silver machinery that she supposed propelled the odd thing.

Good heavens, it really was a _glass elevator_, sitting right in the middle of the meadow. "Everybody in!" Willy chirped, gesturing chivalrously for the other two to enter the elevator. Charlie pulled Rowena in with him and Willy followed in after them.

Rowena could feel trepidation eating away at her, and alarm bells were clanging loudly in her head. This was _not_ like any other tour she had ever been on, and she had no idea what to expect. She was inside an elevator made completely of glass, and if Mr. Wonka was to be believed, it was about to explode into the air in any direction it could whiz. There were no cables connected to it, no shaft for it to glide through. Anything could happen, and there was nothing she could do about it, aside from fretting silently.

"Where to?" Willy's solemn voice interrupted her thoughts. His gloved hand gestured to what appeared to be hundreds of neatly rowed buttons lining the walls, each one labeled with tiny capital letters. The letters were all a jumble to her frantic mind, and without bothering to read anything she simply pointed to one. "Ah, _Licorice Jungle_. Good choice. Hang on, then, 'cause here we _go_!"

Hang on? Rowena glanced around her for anything to hold on _to_, but before she knew what was happening, Mr. Wonka had punched the button and they were in flight. The elevator soared up into the air with a slowly, smoothly gathered speed, jarred to a stop, and then whizzed in a new direction…a very horizontal direction. She struggled to keep her footing, feeling rather envious that Mr. Wonka seemed to have no trouble keeping his balance. He looked perfectly at ease, smiling at her strangely from the corner he stood in. At least he was a safe distance away from him and she didn't need to worry about the odd prickling sensation she felt when he was too close to her. Charlie looked perfectly happy as well, squeezing her hand and doing what he could to help her stay on her feet.

They were moving so fast, Rowena couldn't even tell which way they were going. They had somehow flown away from the Chocolate Room and into what she could only guess was a dark tunnel. They soared for a few moments more through the unending darkness when quite suddenly and without any warning, the elevator plummeted.

There was a sharp intake of breath by every person in the elevator. Charlie whooped, Willy smiled, and Rowena…began to laugh.

Her fear dissipated. She felt fifteen years old again, free as a bird and without a care in the world. And before she could stop herself, her thoughts flew to Fitz; her brother would have adored this. He would have stood beside her, smiling impishly and laughing right along with her, just as carefree as she felt now.

The elevator had stopped free-falling and was still again. Rowena's laughter had faded away but her smile remained. She could not have known how natural and lovely that smile of hers was, reflecting true enjoyment from the very core of her being. Willy and Charlie certainly seemed to notice, each one of them smiling back at her in ill-hidden surprise.

Rowena was unaware of their attention. Her body remained firmly rooted where it was but her mind was far away. For the first time in so long she had willingly thought about her brother, and most extraordinary of all…it hadn't hurt. There hadn't been that heart tearing twist of pain, that deep feeling of remorse that threatened to overcome her. How had it happened? More than that, why had it happened here and now, of all places and times?

"Rowena?"

"She might be having a flashback, Charlie. Best give her a minute—I know a thing or two about flashbacks."

"I don't think she's having a flashback. I think she's just…thinking."

Slowly Rowena's mind returned to her body. She blinked, took a deep breath, and glanced between Charlie and Willy who were both looking a little concerned. Concerned for _her_.

"No, I wasn't having a flashback, Willy. I'm sorry if I worried you." Startled, Willy drew back, pressing his back into the elevator wall behind him. His jaw dropped a bit like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words, and his deep blue eyes widened. It occurred to Rowena at that moment that his eyes weren't actually blue, but rather a stunning shade of exotic violet. Like his perfect hands hidden beneath those purple gloves of his, his eyes struck her as being the most beautiful and unique of their kind she'd ever seen.

She started a bit, wondering what she'd done to shock him. And then it struck her; she'd broken the first cardinal rule of any business relationship. Without realizing it, Rowena had called him by first name. It was one thing when a client offered her to address them by their God given name, but this was another matter entirely. Geoffrey and the rest of her superiors had been adamant on the subject. In their staunch opinions, her little blunder was enough to lose a potential client, and a very powerful and lucrative one, at that.

"Oh, Mr. Wonka, I…" She couldn't even begin. What was becoming of her? "I'm sorry if I offended you, I didn't mean to--"

Mr. Wonka jerked a bit, apparently coming back to his senses. "Willy will do just fine, Rowena. In fact, I think I prefer it infinitely to that stuffy Mr. Wonka business," he told her quietly, a smile the likes of which she had never seen teasing the corners of his mouth. It was mesmerizing, even oddly breathtaking if she was being honest with herself. Of course, the strict business nature was creeping back over her, and therefore she had very little time to be honest with herself. Nodding jerkily, she tore her eyes away from his, smiling awkwardly down at Charlie in a vain attempt to distract herself.

"I was just thinking about something, Charlie. I didn't mean to startle you."

"What were you thinking about?" His question was so candid, so sincere. She faltered, scrambling to come up with an explanation without approaching the truth. It wouldn't do. The little boy before her possessed an ageless wisdom, perfect in its innocence. Skirting the issue with him simply wouldn't work, and besides that, she didn't really want to lie to him.

"I was thinking about my brother," she told him at length, smiling weakly. "He would have loved this."

"And we've only just begun!" Charlie grinned. "Wait until you see the rest of the factory. You're going to love it, too."

She nodded, scooping up her briefcase that had slipped from her grasp mid-flight. Charlie led the way, pulling Rowena out of the elevator and into a highly polished corridor. There was a pair of ordinary brown doors directly across from the elevator, and labeled in plain letters LICORICE JUNGLE. Pulling her hand free from Charlie, she hurried to pull her steno pad from her briefcase, smiling apologetically at the boy. "Just one moment," she murmured as she flipped it open, hurrying to jot down a quick note.

_Glass elevator—mode of transportation. Lack of hand rails could be potential liability. _

Peering over the notepad, Rowena found that Willy was hovering dangerously close, angling his neck in an attempt to see what she was writing. Whipping the notebook out of his sight, she turned her back on him as she flipped it shut. "Mr. Wonka--" she began but was swiftly interrupted.

"Willy. It's Willy now, 'kay?"

"All right, _Willy_, like I told you before, I have to take a few notes while I'm here. It's standard procedure."

"You sure do think highly of standard procedure, don't you?" She was taken aback by his question.

"Well, of course," she said quickly. "It's very important, standard procedure, and rules and regulations. It's all apart of my job."

"Standard procedure doesn't always apply in my factory." He spoke smoothly and pleasantly, yet just as she had detected the first time he'd said it, his voice held some kind of a prophetic promise. She promptly ignored her questionable discovery, slipping the notepad back into her briefcase and shrugging her slim shoulders.

"Like I said before, um, Willy…" His name sounded so strange on her tongue. It was certainly going to tae some getting used to. "I have no choice but to follow my standards of procedure. They're just notes."

"Huh. Right then." He turned on his heels without another word, striding to the double doors and pushing with both hands. They flew open to reveal…another set of doors. He strode towards the next pair of doors, Charlie and Rowena hurrying behind him. Glancing at the lettering on the first pair of doors, Rowena wondered for the first time at the strange name. Licorice Jungle? That wasn't exactly a normal name for the room she assumed licorice was produced in. Then again, Willy Wonka was anything but normal, so it wasn't difficult to believe that he had somehow themed the rooms much like he had themed the guest rooms. She could picture it now; bright wallpaper, colorful machinery, the sweet scent of licorice…

Her jaw dropped and she stumbled over her own feet. Without further ado Willy had pushed the new pair of doors wide open, revealing to her stunned dark eyes a true _licorice jungle._

"I don't believe it," she gasped, lamely following a smiling Charlie as he gently tugged her through the doors. There was an oppressive heat that hit her first, thick and humid with the strong sugary smell of licorice. Stretching before her with no end in sight was thick rubbery foliage of every color, twisting vines of fire engine red twining and dripping around and through the exotic trees. They did not enter onto the jungle floor as one might imagine, but were standing on a very tall platform made of lightly colored planks of a material that resembled bamboo.

In hindsight, Rowena couldn't believe she'd expected any less. After her first brush with the Chocolate Room, how could she have doubted the sincerity of the room's name? "Charlie, it's a licorice jungle," she mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I know," Charlie laughed. "This is one of my favorite rooms."

"Oh, yeah, it's one of the best," Willy added, standing a ways off from the pair and leaning lightly on his cane. His eyes were resting on Rowena again, particularly paying close attention to her delightfully awed reaction. Catching up his cane, he launched into an excited explanation, moving to stand close by her side.

"My licorice jungle is one of a kind, you see. The Oompa-Loompas, who are rather partial to jungle environments, chop the vines down and gather them down there," he gestured with a graceful hand over the edge of the platform to the jungle's floor, "and take 'em away to be processed and packaged. Wild licorice is the very sweetest kind of licorice there is, and it grows in ever so many delicious varieties."

Rowena listened half-heartedly to his explanation. There was something else drawing her attention, or rather _someone_. Far below them she could just make out the several moving shapes. Could these perhaps be the elusive Oompa-Loompas she'd heard of so often since her arrival?

Her attention was drawn to movement not far from where they stood. On a thick, wide tree branch a very small person dressed in a dark green jumpsuit made of shiny material dashed across the branch's surface, taking a tremendous leap and seizing a dangling vine. Swinging across a wide gap, he landed expertly on another branch. He was not alone; he had landed beside an exact replica of himself, identical from the top of their dark, strangely coifed hair to the tips of their polished black boots.

"Ah, I see the Oompa-Loompas are enjoying themselves," Willy giggled. There were dozens of them, swinging and cutting away at the licorice vines with extreme efficiency.

"The Oompa-Loompas are the workers for the factory," Charlie supplied helpfully.

"Oh," was Rowena's tiny reply. Her eyes were glazing over again; a memory was taking hold of her thoughts. Her next reply was enough to send her companions reeling. "I think I've…yes, I have. I've seen them before."


	9. Flashbacks and Flying Leaps

**AN: It took some time, but I think I finally have this chapter where I want it. Sorry for the delay, but this was too important a chapter to rush. Also, thanks to my reviewers! I had three or four new reviewers last chapter and I am thrilled! Oh, and just for good measure--**

**Disclaimer: I do not own CatCF in any way, shape, or form. Rowena's mine, members of her family are mine, but everything else is not mine.**

* * *

"You, uh, wanna run that by us again, starshine?" Willy urged her, leaning close and staring at her intently following her quiet revelation. Charlie said nothing, simply watching her in avid curiosity. 

It was a moment longer before Willy's words penetrated into Rowena's dizzying thoughts. "Oh, I…yes. I've seen Oompa-Loompas before."

"That's not possible. Is that possible?" Willy glanced at Charlie, who shrugged. "No, that's not possible," he asserted.

"Well, actually, it _is_," Rowena drawled, a little annoyed at Willy's determined disbelief. She wanted the subject dropped. They were crossing dangerous territory again, approaching that fine line that separated her personal life from her professional one. Before she'd stepped foot in the factory, that line had been an impenetrable wall, but now it lay in shambles.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Charlie asked innocently, stepping closer to her to grab her attention.

It was a good question, Rowena mused, and she realized now why they were having a difficult time believing her. "I didn't know they were called Oompa-Loompas," she responded easily enough, shrugging her shoulders in an attempt to appear nonchalant. She failed miserably.

Willy was pressing ever closer, moving around so that he faced her now and could capture her attention more fully. "Well, don't keep us waiting!" he fairly begged, bouncing on his heels like a child waiting to run to their presents on Christmas morning. "Where did you see them? When? _Why_?"

So many questions! Rowena not only felt bombarded, but she felt frightened, too. She didn't want to remember more fully, she didn't want to speak of her past. It was too late; his questions were bouncing around inside of her head, sparking a chain reaction that sent her spiraling deeper than she'd ever gone before into a kind of repressed memory. The world around her was growing darker, and she was being pulled down, down, down... It was all coming back now…

* * *

_The weather was especially hot. Everyone made mention of it, even her father, who usually was the easiest going of the group. Trekking through the thick foliage, he and Fitz led the way, their gleaming machetes hacking away to clear a path wide enough to pass through._

_"Fitz, are you sure you heard the native's directions correctly?" Their mother sounded a little worried, trailing behind Rowena as she daintily stepped over a rotting tree branch. "I was almost certain he said to go around this part of the jungle and not through it."_

_Fitz laughed quietly up ahead of them, glancing at their father with a devilish little wink. "Getting where you're going is half the fun, mum. One way or another we'll get to the river, and I can promise you that the boat won't leave without us."_

_"That's because it's _our_ boat," their mother grumbled, batting a buzzing insect away from her thick golden hair, most of which was hanging in limp damp curls around her face._

_"Oh, don't fret, mum," A young Rowena called cheerfully, taking in the jungle scenery with her usual energetic enthusiasm. "We've only been lost for a couple of days, and I'm sure…" Her voice trailed off, prompting Fitz to glance over his shoulder at her._

_"Everything all right, Ro?" he asked breezily, only slightly concerned. _

_"Look," Rowena whispered, her eyes fixed on something high above them. "Up there." She was pointing now, and with a confused murmur, Fitz followed her gaze up into the trees._

_"Well, would you look at that!" he exclaimed, elbowing their father. _

_"Good heavens!" he gasped, and their mother was the last to look up. The Chantilly family all stared in awe at what appeared to be a small network of roundish huts slung high in the trees, connected by the occasional sloping rope bridge._

_"Look, there're little people…" Fitz murmured, and Rowena watched as a very small man with pointy black hair raced across the bridge, moving so quickly that he was more of a blur than anything else. Squinting her eyes, Rowena could make out more of them rushing across their bridges, obviously as aware of the strangers as Rowena's family was aware of them._

_"Let's talk to them," Rowena suggested dreamily, already moving towards a tree with the intent to climb it._

_"We haven't the time," her mother urged, drawing an arm around her daughter's shoulders and leading her to join the men. _

_"Dad? Please?" Rowena came close to begging, and with a kind smile her father squeezed her shoulder lightly._

_"I'm afraid your mother is right, darling. We are two days late, and we really must be getting to Egypt on time. Another time, pet, another time." More than a little disappointed, Rowena followed the others, her eyes lingering on the strange city in the trees for as long as possible…

* * *

_

"Yep, she's really having a flashback this time, Charlie. I'm absolutely certain." Rowena could hear Willy Wonka's strange tones far in the distance. Like a splash of cold water striking her in the face, she was abruptly freed from the memory, her mind leaping back to reality.

"Oh, no!" she gasped, hands flying to her mouth in true horror. "I _did_ just have a flashback!" With quick, jerky motions she pulled her briefcase tightly to her side, took one step backwards, and then turned on her heels to flee through the doors.

Willy moved with lightning speed, placing himself squarely in her path with arms spread wide. "And where, exactly, are you going?" Rowena stumbled backwards, nearly toppling Charlie over behind her.

"I have to go," was all she could say, trying to sidle around him to get to the door. Willy outmaneuvered her, anticipating her every move and planting himself in front of her so that she simply couldn't pass without physically knocking him aside. That particular thought was proving very tempting for her.

"Mr. Wonka, don't you see what's going on here? I am not right for this job. Despite my best efforts, strange, um, _things_ keep happening to me, and you need someone else to evaluate you and your factory!"

He looked both annoyed and perplexed, leaning his head down to meet her at eye level. "I don't get it. What's the big deal? You're doing your job, aren't you? You're taking your silly little notes, following where I lead, and doing a pretty darn good job of keeping up. So what's the big problem-o?"

She groaned in sheer frustration, gripping her head with both hands. "Mr. Wonka--"

"Willy," he swiftly interrupted.

"Yes, fine, _Willy_, what I mean to say is…I did just have a flashback, actually. That's-that's…completely and totally inappropriate!" She was going to be sacked, she knew, when she returned to the office, unable to complete the job. But what else was there to be done? Her carefully structured world was crumbling, and all because of one strange tour in a strange factory with its, yes, _strange_ owner. She needed to regroup her scattered thoughts, reevaluate her strategy. All in all, she just needed to _leave._

"Speaking from experience," Willy said with a guilty smile, blithely ignoring the warring emotions written plainly across her face, "I don't see what's so terrible about having a flashback. They just tend to happen, especially when you've repressed powerful memories and emotions that simply don't want to go away." He laughed shortly and without any real humor, planting his cane in front of him and shrugging his shoulders.

"How do you know that I have repressed memories?" Rowena demanded, aghast at the very idea, regardless of how true it was.

He ignored her question. "Before you get all excited and flighty like a little bird, why don't you tell us where you've seen the Oompa-Loompas?" His suggestion was surprisingly logical, but Rowena hated it. If she told them about the memory, questions would be asked about her family. It was what she had avoided for so long now, forever struggling to keep the past in the past.

She took another sidestep hoping to slip around him, but it was no use. He wasn't about to let her through, at least not without an explanation of sorts. "Oh, all right!" she burst out, feeling the pangs of defeat but still desperate for an escape. "I saw them in a jungle, many years ago."

That clearly wasn't enough information for Willy, or even for Charlie. They looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue, and once she realized what they were waiting for, she did. "I was with my, um…well, _family._" Her dark eyes alighted strangely, a truly puzzled expression schooling her features. How odd. That hadn't been nearly as difficult to say as she'd thought it would be. She exhaled slowly, surprised…and, dare she admit it, a little encouraged.

"What were you and your family doing in Loompaland?" Charlie asked eagerly.

"Loompaland? Is that where we were?"

"Most certainly," Willy readily supplied. "And it must have been a long time ago, too, since they all live here now."

"It was 18 years ago, to be precise," Rowena agreed. "I was nine, and we were in the jungle because…that's what my family did."

"Rowena," Charlie laughed, "you have to be a little more specific than that!"

"Fine then," she sighed, realizing too late that there was no avoiding it now. "We were exploring."

"Exploring? Like on holiday?" Charlie guessed.

"Well, sort of. Except that we weren't on holiday. That's just what we did. My family and I were, well, adventurers of sorts."

The boy froze. A light bulb seemed to go off in his head. Mouth agape, he slowly pieced the puzzle together. "Wait, your last name is Chantilly…_Frederick _Chantilly? Are you related to _the_ Frederick Chantilly?"

No one had spoken her father's name aloud to her in years. She drew back a step, smiling tightly as she weathered weather the brief storm of emotion that his name inspired. "Yes, Charlie," she finally admitted. "Frederick Chantilly is my father."

"I wrote a report on him in school!" Charlie gushed, swinging her hand in his excitement. "He was a scholar and an explorer who was always searching for treasure and artifacts all over the world! The British Museum is full of his findings! I guess you knew all that, didn't you?" Rowena nodded, attempting to smile with a little more enthusiasm. She did not dare to look at Mr. Wonka, sure that his eyes would be fixed on her in that otherworldly way of his. She kept her attention solely on Charlie, fighting against an embarrassing and inexplicable blush that was warming her cheeks.

"But he disappeared eight years ago," Charlie finished, brow furrowing. "He isn't…" He didn't dare ask, hadn't even meant to insinuate.

"No, he hasn't died," Rowena assured him. "It's just that, after Fitz and my mother… Well, my father sort of exiled himself, locking himself away out in the countryside. It was all very painful for him. I haven't seen him in a very long time, either."

"But that's not fair!" To her great astonishment, it was Willy who uttered those emphatic words. "Of course it was painful for him. But it was painful for you, too. That's like losing your whole…your whole…f-family." Was it her imagination, or had Willy stumbled over his last word? He gulped and tugged at his stiff collar, confirming her suspicion, but the intensity of his gaze was distracting her.

"He's a good man, my father," she intoned softly. "He just…never saw it coming. He just couldn't grasp that they're…gone."

She could feel unshed tears gathering in her eyes. Thank heavens that Charlie, despite feeling truly sad for Rowena, was so curious about her life before that he launched into a series of rapid fire questions, giving her the chance to push her tears firmly aside.

"But you went with him on all of his adventures?"

"Yes, Charlie, we all did."

"So you've seen the world?"

"Well, yes, I have."

He looked close to laughing now, thrilled that the daughter of one of his heroes was standing right beside him. "Where have you gone? What did you do? What have you seen and found?"

"So many questions, Charlie!" Rowena laughed, feeling a little more at ease. Leave it to Charlie. "Why don't you ask me one at a time, like before?"

"All right, sure! Have you…climbed mountains?"

"Quite a few of them. There aren't always clear paths to the places you want to go. Sometimes you just have to scale a mountain or two."

"What about scuba diving? I read that Frederick Chantilly spent three months every year on a yacht in the Mediterranean Sea."

She nodded. "Mm-hmm, we all did. You'd be surprised how much treasure is lying about on the bottom of the Mediterranean."

Charlie was just getting warmed up. "I read that your father uncovered a city of gold in South America. Were you with him?"

She paused, trying to recall. "Oh, _that_ city of gold. I was there, but the truth is that once you've seen one city of gold, you've seen them all. They're really nothing special."

He was laughing so hard, it appeared that Charlie might double over at any moment. Struggling to catch his breath, he somehow managed to continue his questions. "What was your favorite place?"

"My favorite place?" That would take some thinking. The truth was that Rowena had seen so much of the world, mostly parts that most people could never even dream existed, that it was difficult to choose just one. "I always loved the jungle," she finally supplied, practically invigorated that after all she had said about her past, the pain she expected to spill over had yet to come.

"The jungle!" Charlie echoed excitedly. "I bet that would be my favorite, too. What did you like about it?"

"Have you ever read Tarzan?" He nodded enthusiastically. "Just like Tarzan, my family lived in a real jungle tree house for a little while." If his wide-eyed expression was any indication, it was almost too much for Charlie to take in. "Fitz and I learned how to swing on the vines. I bet him that it was impossible, but not only did he prove me wrong, he all but forced me off of a tree branch to get me going."

"Could you do it now?"

"Now?" He couldn't possibly mean…

"Could you swing on these vines?" Rowena glanced at the long licorice vines dubiously. They looked sturdy enough, and the Oompa-Loompas were having no trouble swinging about. Then again, there really wasn't much of a comparison between the Oompa-Loompas and herself, but it gave some reason for hope.

"I suppose it would be possible..."

"Then let's do it!" Rowena was worried that the tales of her childhood had gone to his head.

"Charlie, whatever would your mother say to me?"

Charlie shrugged, grinning madly. "I've done it lots of times before," he admitted with an innocent smile. Walking to the railing beside Charlie, Rowena took her time making her decision. On the one hand was the severe and serious side of her nature, the same that had held sway and dominance over her every decision for years now. Equally strong, however, was a strange desire reawakening inside of her to let go, to enjoy herself for once. It was a part of her personality she had put away so long ago, buried deep within her on the same day she buried her mother and brother. When on earth had it decided to resurface?

Honestly, what did it matter? The fact remained that, from the moment she stepped foot into the factory, all of the rules and regulations she followed had been cast off to the wind. Just as Mr. Wonka—_Willy_—had predicted, standard procedure was no longer in play. Her soft lips curved into a grin, one so full of mischief and delight that both Charlie and Willy were taken aback for a moment.

"All right then, Charlie. So long as you don't tell your mother on me, let's do it." A few feet to her right was an opening where the railing ended and one could climb down a sturdy ladder to reach the jungle floor. Not so far from the opening was a tantalizing vine, just waiting for her to reach out and take it.

"Are you sure about this, Rowena?" Standing a couple of feet from the opening, she angled her head to glance at Willy. He was not warning her. If anything, he was tempting her, practically egging her on simply by the look in his eyes. There was a kind of test being administered, she felt instinctively, a challenge being presented. He _wanted_ her to jump.

Without further ado, she took two quick steps and leaped into the air.

Being airborne never felt so good.


	10. A Realisation

**AN: Yes, I'm still around. I have any number of excuses for the long periods of time between updates: School. School, school, school. The good (wonderful!) news is that the semester ends in less than two weeks. That means that I'll have all summer to get to work and, barring writer's block, I'll get updating in a more timely matter.**

**As far as any notes go for this chapter, I actually did have quite a battle against writer's block. The first draft was just not clicking for me, and it took many, many revisions to get it to a point where I felt confident enough about it to get it posted. So let me know any of your thoughts for this one. I think we're just about halfway through the story, so things will definitely be getting more exciting from now on. As always, thanks to ALL of my readers and reviewers!**

**Oh, and there's a little bit of a shoutout to _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,_ the 1971 version with Gene Wilder. I can honestly say that I love both movies equally, so I thought it would be fun to throw in a tie-in here and there. It shouldn't be too hard to spot :) **

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She felt twelve years old all over again. Knowing instinctively just what to do, Rowena flew from vine to vine with confidence and laughter. Charlie had jumped out after her, Willy not far behind him, and from their whoops and hollers and Willy's occasional one-worded cries (_"Geronimo! Pistachio!")_, it was obvious that they were enjoying themselves as much as she was.

The licorice vines were perfectly suited for swinging, and Rowena couldn't help but thank her lucky stars that she had been keeping up at the gym. Her arms were tiring already but she was far from ready to quit entirely. A break was in order. Landing on a particularly large and solid tree branch with a stumble, she realized too late that her high heels were not exactly the preferred footwear for that sort of thing. Keeping a tight hold on her vine, it was almost certain that she was going to stumble over the edge of the branch or at least wrench her ankle.

Disaster was averted in the form of Willy Wonka as his arm lashed out from behind her to wrap around her slim waist and steady her. She whipped her head around to face him, beyond surprised to find him practically appearing out of thin air right beside her. Their eyes locked and Rowena felt her breath hitch in her chest. She was absolutely positive now; his eyes were violet, an extraordinarily beautiful shade of violet. There was electricity and warmth in his touch, even if his hands were gloved, and Rowena stood transfixed beneath his otherworldly gaze.

Not a moment too soon, Charlie landed beside them, and the spell that held them frozen was broken. Willy pulled his arm away quickly, turning his back on the insurance agent and clearing his throat. Rowena could feel another blush coming on. She turned away quickly herself, hoping it would go unnoticed. "That was great!" Charlie enthused between gulps of air, completely unaware of the moment that had just transpired. "And you were great, Rowena!" Left with little choice, Rowena turned to face him. If she was lucky, her face would have returned back to its usual shade.

"Thanks, Charlie," she replied a bit weakly. Willy was facing away from both of them, apparently watching the Oompa-Loompas at work. Rowena could only guess what was really on his mind. Somehow she didn't believe for one second that he was as unaffected as he appeared to be. But she couldn't think of it…_wouldn't _think of it. What was there to think of, anyway? Nothing, she emphasized internally. Nothing at all.

"I could go on swinging for days!" Charlie was laughing now, though it was clear from his labored breathing that he was as winded as the rest of them just from those first few minutes. Rowena smiled at his enthusiasm, still enjoying at least in part the lasting effects of the pure adrenaline that had pumped through her veins for the first time in years.

"Me too," she agreed, absentmindedly brushing aside a golden lock of hair that had come loose. "Do you do this sort of thing all the time? Swing on the vines, I mean?"

"Well, not _all_ of the time." Charlie placed his hands in his pockets, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Sometimes we climb Fudge Mountain, or fly around in the Fizzy Lifting Drink Room."

"You fly in the Fizzy Lifting…what?" Rowena glanced from Charlie to Willy, who was still focusing on the jungle floor. Despite his averted gaze, he no doubt heard the conversation going on over his shoulder.

"The Fizzy Lifting Room, where the Fizzy Lifting Drink is made," he clarified without moving a muscle. "It's one of my greatest inventions yet. Just a few more months of testing and it's sure to take off!" He and Charlie giggled at the pun that Rowena was helpless to understand. Rolling her eyes at them, she awkwardly brushed a piece of lint from her cardigan. She gasped when Willy whirled back around unexpectedly, wreathed in smiles and flexing his gloved hands in front of them.

"Ready for some more?" he asked cheerfully, nodding at a nearby licorice vine. It was odd that his elegant top hat remained firmly on top of his perfectly coifed hair. She nodded, smiling tightly. First, though, she reached down to remove her pumps. Chanel be damned, she wasn't going to kill herself trying to land in them again…_or_ risk the chance of another Willy-themed rescue attempt.

The only problem now was what to do with them. Her briefcase had been left behind on the platform they had entered on, so she couldn't tuck them safely in there. Her brow creased in concentration as she searched for a solution. She was blithely unaware that she was under Willy's scrutiny once again.

"You know, you're gonna need some different clothes." Her frown deepened as she examined her attire. A flared black skirt, harmless camisole, pink cardigan; her outfit was perfectly suited for a day on the job, if a little wrinkled from having to wear it two days in a row. Of course, said day usually didn't involve any sort of candy jungle antics, and who knew what else would be on the menu for the rest of the day.

"I'm not wearing the robe all day," she said, slightly panicked as she thought of the one she had slept in. It had been warm and luxurious, but that didn't change the fact that it was a _robe_.

"Of course not!" Willy laughed. "Don't worry, though. My Oompa-Loompas can get your things."

The idea was absurd as far as she was concerned, especially since she'd be leaving that evening, and she would have told him so. Opening her mouth to speak, she stopped short when a loud, blaring siren sounded all around them, accompanied momentarily by Willy's strange recorded voice. "_Intruder alert_, _intruder alert, intruder alert…"_

"No, no, _no_!" She groaned, already anticipating the repercussions of another attempted break-in. At the moment she couldn't care less who was trying to break in or why, lingering instead on the fact that it could possible mean that she would be forced to spend another night as a guest of the factory. Willy had gone even paler than usual, an effect that, truth be told, was rather eerie. He glanced first at Charlie, sharing a wordless exchange with the boy before turning his full attention back on Rowena.

Her heart, that blood-pumping traitor, gave a little leap. Honestly, it didn't make any sense to her! She wasn't exactly a stranger to men. While dating had not been her strong point in the recent past, it wasn't as though she had assumed the life of a spinster. Well, in some ways, perhaps, but not completely. So why, why, _why_ did her heart insist on fluttering whenever _Willy Wonka_ looked at her? She knew her type, and it was _not_ childish, strange and eccentric—albeit undeniably gifted—chocolatiers. Not now, not _ever._

"Somebody sure does want to get inside, Charlie," Willy said slowly, his words for the boy but his strangely accusatory eyes fixed on Rowena. Was he insinuating that she was somehow connected? Surely not…

"We'd better check it out, Willy." Charlie leapt onto a vine and wound his way down to the jungle floor, just as all of the Oompa-Loompas were doing with incredible speed. That left Rowena left alone with Willy, standing precariously on a tree branch high above the ground in a licorice jungle with her high heels clasped in her hands. Lovely.

A horrible thought struck her. A good thirty feet from the ground at least, just how on earth was she supposed to get down? Fitz had always let her latch onto him as he lowered them both back to the ground…

No, oh no. _No_.

Willy grinned. She mentally added mind-reader to his growing list of quirks. His face was drawn, his skin still pale, and yet he appeared to be totally pleased. Offering his gloved hand to her with only the slightest hesitation, he seemed to know exactly the predicament she was in. "I'm sure I can manage getting down on my own," she insisted, feeling desperate to stay as far away from his touch as possible. "Really, it doesn't look so hard…" She peeked over the edge, eyes widening at the realization of just how high up they truly were.

He easily called her bluff. "Come, come, my dear Rowena. You certainly don't want to miss out on all the excitement."

"You mean you want me to come with you to investigate this intruder business?"

"Yes. I do." He spoke solemnly, extending his proffered hand more insistently. "Now, we mustn't dilly or dally, Rowena." She eyed him distrustfully, hesitating one moment more before placing her hand in his.

She regretted it almost immediately. The electricity was there again, so tangible and startling that she couldn't ignore it. The flimsy excuses she was continually making were falling away at a rapid rate, crumbling to dust in the wake of the powerful surge of strange emotion that coursed through her. Heaven help her, she _was_ attracted to Willy Wonka. She could find no rhyme or reason to it, no practical enough explanation in the wide world to account for it, but it was blaringly, excruciatingly _true._

And now he was drawing her close to him, wrapping an arm around her waist…

"Are you sure this is necessary?" she all but squeaked, her dark eyes large and luminous and dangerously close to revealing more than just mere discomfort.

Willy angled his head slightly, smiling in a way she had never seen before. He almost looked…dashing? Was that the right word? Dashing, charming…_understanding_? That, or she was losing her mind. "I'm quite sure," was his flippant response, and his smile broadened. "Hold on tight, 'cause here we go!"

He backed over the edge smoothly and Rowena had no choice but to throw her arms around his neck, pressed tightly against him by his surprisingly powerful arm. Incredibly enough, his scent was somehow different now; peanuts and cinnamon. It was not a combination found in the colognes of department stores but the effect was powerful nonetheless. With her face very nearly pressed into the lapels of his jacket, it took whatever threads of self control she still possessed to check her impulse to inhale his delicious scent too deeply.

They descended to the jungle floor in a slow spin, and before she knew it, they were grounded beside Charlie. Willy released her immediately, his hand lingering behind her shoulder briefly to ensure she kept her balance this time. Rowena made another mental note to destroy her blasted shoes as soon as possible. Those expensive fiends had thrown her into Willy's arms twice now, and if it happened a third time, she was sure that she would go mad. Graceful in pumps she may not have been, but she would not easily resign to playing the damsel in distress. Having spent the bulk of her life abroad and beyond and facing danger and doom with some frequency, she vehemently did _not_ need to be swept off her feet at every turn.

Even if it was, dare she admit it, rather nice in some small—_very_ small—way.

Clearing her throat in an effort to clear her thoughts, she glanced between Willy and Charlie several times, waiting for someone to lead the way. Willy appeared to be all business again. He had a factory to defend, and by heavens, he _would_ defend it. It was his life's work, his pride and passion, and no threat would go unchallenged so long as he was there.

He stepped away from them, approaching an assembled group of Oompa-Loompas. Charlie drew Rowena's attention away, explaining as best as he could. "It's probably nothing again, just some kids playing pranks or something silly."

"Does this kind of thing happen often?"

Charlie thought on it a moment, a frown creasing his brow. "Only once since I've been here, when my dad had to work late and couldn't figure out how to get back inside the factory. Other than that, I don't really think it's ever happened before. Not like this, anyway."

"How odd," Rowena muttered and was grateful that Willy wasn't nearby to protest the quiet tone of voice. Charlie nodded in Willy's direction, and Rowena turned to see that he was gesturing impatiently, his cane miraculously back in hand—no doubt retrieved by an Oompa-Loompa. The pair hurried to join him, following the serious-faced security detail that led them through a winding path to a wide metallic archway that emptied into another corridor. Two panels slid silently closed behind them, but she was focused on the Glass Elevator that waited before them.

Rowena was ushered gently by Charlie back into the contraption. With five or six Oompa-Loompas joining them this time around, they were considerably more crowded, but she didn't mind in the least. On the contrary, it was thrilling for her to be standing right beside them. Better still, they kept her and Willy pressed against opposite walls and as far away from each other as possible. None of them looked her way, totally focused on the task at hand. One of them pressed a button, the elevator lifted from the ground and they were off.

Little did she realize that their destination did not lie within the factory but rather _outside_ of it. The elevator zoomed along, taking all sorts of abrupt changes in direction. But then they were going up and up, and sunlight was suddenly streaming in all around them. No one else in the elevator seemed to think anything of it, and so she held her tongue, marveling at the cloudless blue sky and the wide view of the sprawling city surrounding the factory.

They hovered above a long stretch of flat roofline, and with perfect smoothness the elevator landed and the engines shut off. The doors chimed cheerfully as they slid open, and taking the initiative, Willy marched away, his Oompa-Loompas following behind in a flawless v-formation, and Charlie and Rowena bringing up the rear.

More Oompa-Loompas were already at work, setting up a perimeter around the apparent crime scene with yellow caution tape and gathering anything they considered evidence with extreme efficiency. They were silent in their work, though Rowena could see Willy up ahead of them communicating with some form of sign language. The point of the break-in was obvious. A large ceiling window had been smashed through and only jagged pieces of glass remained along the border. Charlie went to join Willy, and Rowena began to skirt the window's perimeter herself, careful to stay out of everyone's way.

"It doesn't make any sense," Willy said from the other side of the window. "Why would someone want to break into the Nerds Sorting Room? I know that they're hopelessly delectable and oh so hard to resist, but is this really necessary?"

"Maybe they weren't looking for a specific room," Charlie remarked, his brow furrowed. "Maybe whoever it was just knew that this was the easiest window to climb to."

"It's still a long way up," Willy added, nodding in the direction of the three story drop. "And really, I could see someone wanting Nerds so badly that they just--"

"It could be that they weren't trying to break in at all." The pair looked at Rowena questioningly. Even the Oompa-Loompas stopped what they were doing to give her a strange look.

"What makes you say that?" Willy asked slowly, watching her appraisingly. Rowena pursed her lips, walking around the window once more. "Well," she began, pointing to an ordinary-looking hammer that lay a foot from where she stood, outlined in a no-nonsense manner by white chalk. "It looks like whoever did this used this hammer to break through the glass."

"That's not exactly rocket science now, is it?"

She ignored Willy's dry remark and continued. "They managed to climb up three stories and smash through the window, then dropped the hammer and fled after the alarm went off."

"Go on…"

"I was just thinking that if they left behind the hammer, chances are they could have left behind anything else they were planning on using to get inside."

"Like…rope?" Charlie hazarded a guess.

"Right, Charlie, anything that they could use to lower themselves to the bottom of that room down there."

"That would be the Nerds Sorting Room," Willy supplied, and by all accounts he looked like he was going to launch into another one of his upbeat narrations. Rowena cut him off before he could continue, ignoring his rather putout look.

"All right then, the Nerds Sorting Room. It's too far to just drop inside, and it's not as if nobody would notice. It's broad daylight, and there must have been plenty of Oompa-Loompas working in the room. And a hammer? That's hardly the kind of high tech equipment that an experienced burglar uses, now, isn't it? "

"Criminals aren't always known to be master-minding geniuses, starshine. Don't you think it's possible that they panicked and just happened to forget the hammer? They _did_ have to get down, after all." Willy interjected.

As if on cue, a pair of Oompa-Loompas pointed to a length of sturdy rope that had just been pulled up after dangling from the side of the building. "There's your escape route," Rowena pointed out. "It's possible they simply forgot the hammer, yes, but I don't think it's likely. If you ask me, it looks like little more than a prank. That, or someone is trying very hard to get your attention."

Willy obviously did not like the sound of that. He wrinkled his nose at the suggestion, slowly making his way around the window to stand at Rowena's side. Planting his cane and leaning as far over the window's edge as he could, he pondered on her words and took in all of the pieces of the puzzle she had just pointed out. He would have no doubt arrived at the same conclusion momentarily and he was determined not to feel irked that Rowena had been the first to point it out. Unless there was some other, far less pleasant reason she seemed to know so much.

"I know that my chocolate is delicious and my candy just impossible to pass up…_ahem._" He cleared his throat meaningfully, throwing her a brief and annoyed glance. She refused to take the bait, preferring to leave her decision to stay away from sweets out of the equation. "But no one has ever tried to…get my attention, as you say, which isn't to say I don't have enemies—plenty of other confectioners the world over are jealous of my success, of course. That's what happens when you're the 'best darn guy who ever lived,' as I once heard it put."

"I'm sure your great humility has nothing to do with any of this," Rowena remarked dryly.

Luckily, Charlie interrupted before Willy could respond to that. "If someone's trying to get your attention, Willy, what is it they're trying to say?"

"Well, that's the million dollar question, now, isn't it?" he mused, holding up a hand as if to examine his nails. "I don't suppose Miss Chantilly here has any thoughts on that?"

"No, not really," Rowena sputtered, a little thrown by the way he addressed her. Hadn't he been emphatic on the use of first names not so very long ago? Her suspicions that she herself was seen as a suspect were growing, and it only made her more defensive. "Need I remind you, Mr. Wonka, that before my superiors sent me out to your factory, I knew next to nothing about you? I'm just an insurance agent. I don't even eat chocolate, for heaven's sake!"

"Ah ha! So perhaps you have a vendetta against chocolate, then. Is that it?"

"Is that what?" Even Charlie was growing confused by Willy's sudden attempt at interrogation.

Rowena clasped her hands together in agitation, resisting the urge to simply turn her back on him and storm out of his factory. She was just doing her job. How dare he imply that she was in any way involved! "Mr. Wonka! Let me state once and for all that I have _nothing_ to do with these little break-ins of yours. I'm terribly sorry about all of this, but I am just doing my job. I can hardly help it if all of this nonsense is happening while I'm here, but I assure you that it's coincidence and nothing more!"

Her voice had risen with every word until she was practically shouting. Silence greeted her, along with the wide-eyed stare of every person on the roof with her. There was no way to hide the blush that crept along her skin. It wasn't as if she'd meant to shout at them, but the whole scenario was just so absurd. If Rowena Victoria Chantilly wanted to break into someplace, she knew far better ways to go about doing so. Not, of course, that she was about to share that little thought with anyone else.

"If you say so." In an instant Willy's voice had returned to that strange, chipper tone of his. It was mind boggling, really, the rapid rate at which his moods shifted. She could only stare at him stupidly, totally stunned at how quickly he had apparently absolved her of any guilt. The pink in her cheeks deepened and her jaw dropped. As he swung his cane up and started walking away, she remained firmly planted where she stood.

Charlie was rooted to the ground, too, by all appearances, a frown creasing his brow. Perhaps Willy was acting even stranger than usual, if Charlie's perplexed look indicated anything. "You two coming or what?" Willy called to them, by now having traipsed halfway back across the roof towards the elevator.

"But what about the investigation?" Charlie responded.

"Well, the Oompa-Loompas will let us know if they find anything else." Charlie and Rowena shared a puzzled glance, both shrugging their shoulders lightly. They moved to join Willy in the elevator, shuffling inside and waiting patiently for the chocolatier to push the button for their destination. Wherever it was they were headed to now, Rowena could have cared less. At this point, she was almost sure she was going to lose her mind long before the tour ended.


	11. A Showdown of Sorts

AN: As far as updating goes, I think I'd better stop making promises to update sooner...it seems to backfire on me. I'll spare you any detailed excuses, but let's just say that summer vacation isn't as carefree as it was when I was younger. I had hoped to have more time on my hands, but oh well. Even with the freetime I have had I've been taking my time on this chapter, going through several revisions before I felt ready to post it.

As always, thanks to my readers and reviewers. I greatly appreciate it when you take the time to review, just to help me concentrate and focus my efforts on improving my story and updating in a more timely manner. Also, I've been thinking lately that I would probably greatlyf benefit from the help of a beta reader. If anyone is feeling up to the task please feel free to contact me!

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"Where to?"

Rowena started from her momentary stupor. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Where to?" Willy repeated, gesturing to the walls of neatly labeled buttons all around them.

"But I thought…" After the first break-in attempt, their tour had been postponed. She had naturally assumed that Willy would insist on postponing the tour again now that there had been another attempted break-in. "I thought our tour would disrupt the Oompa-Loompas' investigation," she told him frankly.

"No, I don't think so." Before she had been confused and a little flabbergasted, having just endured the brunt of the factory owner's suspicions of her involvement in the strange break-in. Now Rowena felt her blood begin to boil, her temper rising dangerously.

"What do you mean you don't think so? What was so different about the break-in yesterday from the one today? Why, I could have been home yesterday evening as planned, and none of…of _this_ would have happened!"

"None of what, exactly?" His voice was low, his gaze intense. Charlie may as well not have been in the elevator with the pair. Neither of them seemed to notice he was there.

"This! _This_! All of it! You know, there was sanity in my life before I came here! Everything was structured, ordered, and neat! There were no flashbacks, no unpleasant memories dogging me at every turn, no nightmares! And had we finished the tour yesterday as scheduled, everything would still be structured, ordered, and…and _neat_!"

By the time she finished her little tirade she was all but shouting, but Willy did not look offended in any way. There was a kind of light in his eyes, as though he was smiling without his lips turning up at all. Confusion set in once again, and Rowena wondered for the umpteenth time about the man's mental health. More than that, she was wondering about hers.

She, Rowena Victoria Chantilly, insurance agent extraordinaire and the apple of her employers' eyes, had just shouted at a client. It was only the most recent way that she had crossed the professional line. The list of her offenses was growing, and included continual bickering, delving into her personal life, throwing a _hairbrush_ at the client, and running about like a child in a candy world (which, admittedly, she was currently in _and_ frequently encouraged to do). But most grievous of all, somehow, inexplicably, she was beginning to feel a certain attraction to her own client. It was all wrong, wrong, wrong, and she was certain she'd never be able to right her life—professional or otherwise—ever again.

That was saying a lot, seeing as all of the above had happened in less than two days' time.

"Hmm." Wonka examined her carefully, absentmindedly leaning forward on his cane. "Chocolate Room, I think," and he pressed the appropriate button. That was it, then. He was finally letting her go. She'd be sacked, which was no less than she deserved, and she'd return to her flat in London, never to think of Mr. Willy Wonka and his beautiful violet eyes again, determined to start a new life for herself all over again. And she could, too. She'd done it before. She'd do it again.

"Charlie, my boy, I distinctly remember your mother making me promise to have you back before lunch to get your chores done."

"Oh?" Charlie looked perplexed, but one glance from Willy and his confusion miraculously vanished. "Oh, that's right!"

"I do believe Rowena and I will continue the tour as planned, then we can meet up with you again in a few hours. What do you say to that?"

"Sounds perfect, Willy," Charlie grinned.

"What are you two up to?" Rowena asked bluntly, alarmed by the conspiratorial look in their eyes. Obviously, and to her great surprise, he wasn't throwing her out. So what else was going on? Being alone with Willy Wonka didn't sound like the ideal plan at the moment. Until she firmly tamped down on her unwelcome feelings for him, she would be safer having Charlie as a buffer between them.

"Can't get out of chores," Charlie shrugged, grinning suspiciously.

"Right," Rowena replied dubiously, folding her arms across her chest. "Well. We do need to get on with the tour." It wasn't a very spectacular effort as far as recoveries went, but considering her little outburst moments prior, it would have to do. Honestly, the sooner she was out of the factory and back into the real world, the better.

Once they reached the Chocolate Room, Charlie waved enthusiastically as he disembarked the Elevator, breaking into a run and disappearing over a grassy knoll. That left just Willy and Rowena, standing stiffly in opposite corners from one another. "Unless you have any objections," he informed her, "I think I know just the place for our next stop."

Rowena shrugged noncommittally, pretending to be fascinated by something in the distance rather than meet his eyes. Soon the elevator was in flight again, and the silence was pressing in on her from every angle.

He was so very close. Even if she couldn't see him she could feel his presence, that strange electricity he possessed that she was increasingly becoming aware of. No, Willy Wonka was not like other men. He was far, far more dangerous, she was beginning to realize.

"I didn't _really_ think you were involved, you know." His words pierced through her thoughts, catching her totally off-guard.

"You could have fooled me," she responded in a darker tone than she had aimed for. She sighed and tried again. "I guess I can understand. It's a rather strange coincidence, after all, these break-ins coinciding with my visit to the factory." Now Rowena cringed. That almost sounded like a confession to her ears.

"Sometimes a chocolate bar is just a chocolate bar," Willy philosophized. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she steadfastly denied it. _Business, Rowena,_ she chided herself. _This is business, not pleasure. Now knock off that smiling, if you please_.

"Let's just hope we've seen the last of them. I mean, let's just hope you've seen the last of them." 'We' implied that she would be around if another one did occur. If they could finally stick to a reasonable timetable, Rowena emphatically decided she would not be.

Willy said nothing. She should have been grateful. Instead she was simply unnerved. He was watching her again, she knew it. Even worse was the fact that she knew she'd be watching him, too, if she could do so undetected.

When the Elevator landed, Rowena had to fight the urge to rush through the doors. She didn't care where they were headed so long as she didn't have to stand so insufferably close to him in such a small space. Exiting the glass contraption, she read the name of the doors in front of her aloud: "Strawberry-Juice Water Pistols Room…?"

Willy grinned down at her, nodding excitedly. "Oh, trust me. I think you're going to like this."

The doors slid quietly open. Rowena gasped; they had just stepped into the Wild West. This was no cardboard set from a Hollywood back lot. It was a true Western ghost town, just like two or three she had seen during her childhood of adventures. From high above them, the hot, afternoon sun burned down, as though they were actually outdoors. She found herself wondering whether or not they actually _had_ stepped outdoors. But no, that was impossible. It was a cool spring day outside of the factory, not dry and arid. England was hardly known for its dry, desert climate.

Taking a few more steps, the pair stood in the wide dirt lane of the ghost town, tumbleweed rolling past their feet. They passed the general store and an apothecary's shop along with various other establishments, all eerily empty and most of the windows broken in.

"Willy," Rowena breathed in awe, surprised by how authentic everything looked. "This is incredible!"

"I know, right?" Willy chirped, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. "The Strawberry-Juice Water Pistols Room has undergone a few changes, thanks to Charlie's ingenius ideas. You see, it used to just be another boring high-tech shooting range, but my young protégé thought we could do better than that."

He was leading her to a building in the middle of the town, labeled with fading painted letters SHERIFF. Inside was another replica from the Old West, a dirt and grime covered Sheriff's office complete with two empty jail cells. Hanging on the wall, sparkling clean compared to everything else around them, were what Rowena could only call costume pieces: Cowboy hats, vests, and gun holsters with shiny red pistols tucked neatly inside.

"Oh, dear." Rowena had just remembered something very important. Ready to take some notes of this new room, if you could call it that, she had realized that her briefcase had been left in the Licorice Jungle. "I've left behind my notepad," she explained to Willy, turning around to leave.

"You won't be needing that here." She met his unblinking gaze with a bewildered one.

"Why ever not? I'm behind as it is. I can't return to my employers empty-handed."

"Consider this part of the tour off the clock."

"No, I can't do that," she explained, thinking of her precious protocol. "My notes are very important, Willy."

"So I've noticed. Don't you worry your little head, Rowena. My Oompa-Loompas will take good care of your briefcase. We'll have them swing it by when we're finished here."

"Finished with what exactly?" She wasn't sure she really wanted to know. "Can't we just go back for it now?"

"You know something, Rowena?" By the tone of his voice it was clear he was changing the subject. "Some days I find myself at a standstill, frustrated by lack of progress or failed experiments or something to that effect. And I have found that the best cure for those strange and just gosh darn difficult days is to find an activity where I can just let it all out!"

"Let it all out…?"

"That's right! Let it all out. Expel the anger. Banish the bad vibes. Indulge in a little mayhem."

"That's not what I need to do," Rowena argued. "What I need to do is to get my briefcase back, finish the tour, get back to London and turn in my evaluation to my superiors!"

"You're awfully cute when you're angry." That innocent and honestly spoken statement left her open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Her surprise swiftly turned to indignation, as it very well should have, yet there was something more. Something else.

Pleasure. She was flattered. That couldn't be right...

"Willy, Mr. Wonka, _please_. Can't we just finish the--"

Pointing at the cowboy regalia behind her, Willy swiftly cut her off. "I think you'll make an excellent sheriff today."

"An excellent what?"

"Sheriff. You do know what a sheriff is, don't you?"

Crossing her arms across her chest, she retorted, "Of course I do."

"Well that's great, starshine! Here's your pistol." He had crossed the room and grabbed a gun holster, a cowboy hat and a gold sheriff's badge, pulling out one of the shiny red weapons and offering it to her.

Eyeing it with a mixture of curiosity and abhorrence, Rowena gasped, "What are we going to be doing with those? Shooting targets?"

"Of course not," Willy grinned, mischief shining in his violet eyes. "We'll be shooting each other. You'll be shooting at me. Now here's your badge."

She drew in a sharp breath, ignoring the proffered badge held out in his gloved hand. "I'm not going to _shoot_ you!"

"And why not? You know that you want to."

"That's…absurd!"

"No, it isn't. You've got to get all of those conflicting emotions out of you, and this will help! Trust me, I should know."

"Conflicting _what_? What on earth are you talking about, Mr. Wonka?"

Willy tried another tactic, his tone of voice suddenly very calm and sincere. "Rowena. You are the daughter of Frederick Chantilly." Her eyes grew wide at his use of her father's name, but Willy continued uninterrupted. "Yes, I know who he is. Not only is he one of Charlie's heroes, but he also happens to be one of mine." Rowena couldn't believe her ears. The reclusive Willy Wonka knew who her father was? "Believe it or not, I was a bit of an adventurer myself once," he boasted, answering her silent question.

"The point is, you've traveled the world. You've met kings and explored ruins and recovered treasures, all without blinking an eye." My, but he suddenly seemed to know her extremely well. "So pick up that pistol over there, aim it _right at me_, and fire, gosh darnit!"

"But you--it will--I can't--" She was faltering, searching for any excuse that would help her escape. "It will stain your lovely jacket!"

He beamed at her, finding a compliment in her words. Childish excitement returned to his voice. "It sure won't! That's the best _best_ part! The beauty of Strawberry-Juice Water Pistols is that they don't stain at all. The strawberry juice is absolutely delicious, of course, but without all the nonsense and grief of regular, icky staining juice."

"Because it…doesn't stain." Now she was beginning to understand. It was ingenious, like everything else Willy came up with. All the excitement of a water fight, the delicious flavor of strawberry juice, and not a single consequence.

"Willy, are you _sure_ you want me to do this? I hate to boast, but I am a rather good shot."

"Oh, _really_, Sheriff?" He offered the sheriff's badge to her once more, grinning in triumph as she reluctantly pinned it onto her cardigan. "Just one last thing…" Without so much as waiting for her permission, he plopped the tan cowboy hat on top of her head, jerking down the brim so that her vision was temporarily obscured. "You're going to have to catch me first!"

Is that how he was going to play? Rowena jerked her hat back into place, but Willy had already gained a lead of several feet, fleeing from the building with an uncommon amount of both grace and speed. She wasn't far behind him, however--once she committed herself to something, be that strawberry-juice fight-related or otherwise, she was in one-hundred-and-ten-percent. Hastily buckling the gun holster around her hips, she grasped a Strawberry-Juice Water Pistol with each hand. Now she was on the hunt and ready for a genuine victory against Willy Wonka.

Willy had abruptly turned a corner into an alley way, dust kicking up behind him in his haste. Rowena tore after him, skidding around the corner and coming to an abrupt halt. Drat, he was gone!

She scanned her surroundings, keeping her eyes open for any sign of movement. The silence was unnerving, yet adrenaline was pounding inside of her. She wanted to run, to play, to act like a child again. She simply couldn't help it. Something about Willy Wonka and his childlike devotion to life was inspiring, really, affecting her in the oddest ways since her arrival in his factory. One moment they were fighting like children, the next they were playing like children. Yet the growing attraction she felt for him was anything but childish, and that was very, _very_ disconcerting, to say the very least.

And, he _was_ right. She hadn't even shot him yet--she would, she vowed--but she was still feeling some of her earlier tension slip away. Trying her best to clear her head, she carefully moved from the alleyway and back to the dusty lane of the ghost town. The crunch of her high heeled feet on the dusty ground was the only sound besides the occasional sigh of wind sweeping through the town. The apothecary's shop was the closest building and in her estimation the likeliest place Willy could have managed to escape to from the alley. Her back to the building, she paused beside the shop's broken front window, listening carefully. Hearing nothing out of the ordinary, she angled her head just enough to peer through the window, scanning the neglected shop for any sign of movement.

_Fwp! Fwp! _Two streams of ruby red liquid shot past her face, and if she hadn't have pulled her head back just in the nick of time they likely would have struck her right in the forehead. Willy had fired from behind the counter inside of the store, so quickly she almost hadn't seen him. Rowena didn't hesitate another moment before dropping to the ground in order to roll beneath the window, coming to land on the balls of her feet squarely in front of the door.

She could just hear the sound of rapid footfalls, and sure enough as she burst into the store, guns blazing, so to speak, she caught a glimpse of Willy's top hat as he disappeared through a doorway into the back of the shop. Hot on his heels, she fired her pistol at him, just missing him as he sped around a corner. He had fled into the stock room and out the back door, and Rowena was determined not to lose him so easily this time.

The alley she found herself in ran most of the length behind the buildings. Chasing after Willy, the newly appointed 'Sheriff' watched as her prey deftly slipped inside another back door to one of the abandoned establishments of the ghost town. He really was good at this game, wasn't he? If things went the way she intended, he was about to meet his match…

She followed at a slight distance behind him, slipping through the door stealthily and taking stock of her surroundings. The door led to another stock room, much larger than the one in the apothecary's shop but otherwise empty and unremarkable. Moving quietly into an empty corridor and cautiously moving along it, Rowena could see that a door at the far end was slightly ajar. She stood before it, placing her shoulder lightly against it.

_Crack_! She burst through the door, pistols drawn and ready, to be met with…nothing. That is, nothing but an empty saloon. Decrepit wooden tables and chairs were strewn across the large room, some of the splinters of broken chairs littering the ground here and there. Easing into the room further, Rowena could see the old bar at the opposite side of the room, the long mirror behind it still intact.

Lowering her pistols just a fraction, she was just about to investigate the stairs leading up to a balcony when something reflected in the mirror caught her eye. Willy hadn't slipped in before her! He was creeping up _behind her_! Whirling around to face him, she was totally caught off guard as he came barreling into her, taking them both to the ground. They rolled twice before Rowena landed on her back, Willy partially sprawled across her stomach and grinning in triumphant glee.

"Ha!" He exclaimed, his arms braced on either side of her. They remained that way, staring at one another in silence for an indeterminable period of time. His smile was slowly fading, and Rowena was absolutely mesmerized by those violet eyes of his gazing down at her. Electricity seemed to crackle around them, sparked by their close proximity to one another. Her thoughts were frozen, her heart leaping wildly in her chest. And by the look on his face, he was feeling as much of the inexplicable surge of _something_ as she was. Rowena's dark eyes fell on his lips, seemingly fascinated to find them so near to her own…

"Rowena," he said, his voice soft and almost achingly serious. "Rowena, I…"

_Fwp! Fwp!_ His eyes grew wide, lips thinning in surprise, and he gazed down at the fresh little blobs of strawberry juice on the left lapel of his jacket, just above his heart.

"Got you," she whispered, a smile curving the corners of her rosy lips.

Willy was the first to laugh, beginning with one brief, disbelieving chuckle before dissolving into fits of laughter. Rowena wasn't far behind, laughing with all the carefree joy she had felt so often in her youth. Rolling away from her and onto his back beside her, Willy managed to remark, "Excellent shot, Sheriff," before falling away into more fits laughter.


End file.
